#Juno Jeon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stand1ngn3xtou · 2 days ago

Text

| one of you is cute, but two though?

- idol! Kim Mingyu & idol! Jeon Wonwoo x fem!OC

- gênero: SMUT, nsfw;mdni

- conteúdo/avisos: sexo oral (f e m. rec.), punheta, squirt, uso de brinquedos sexuais, palavras de baixo calão, sexo desprotegido (quem

usa capa é herói!!), menção à palavra de segurança (mas não é usada!), soft!dom Mingyu, um pouco de hard!dom Wonwoo, tapa na cara, um pouco de degradação?, aftercare fofinho.

- word count: 7,1k

- nota da autora: Era um dia ensolarado quando os MinWon me pegaram pelo cabelo (🫦) e disseram que eu iria ficar obcecada por eles. Aí eu fiz essa palhaçada. Aproveitem e boa leitura!

P.O.V

O show terminou com a energia lá no alto, como vinha sendo esses últimos dias. Todos os membros altos na adrenalina e sempre procurando prolongar aquela sensação. Alguns, preferiam deixar aquela energia acalmar um pouco, outros queriam ir fundo nela, então resolveram ir para um pub pequeno e desconhecido. DK e Dino foram com suas respectivas namoradas, e para não deixar o amigo sozinho, Hoshi e Jun acompanharam Mingyu, que tentava à todo custo arrastar o companheiro de grupo e apartamento, Wonwoo, com eles.

"Eu já disse que eu não vou Mingyu. Vai aproveitar com os meninos. Eu tô louco pra tomar um banho e talvez beber algo e ficar na minha." - o, agora moreno, falava, enquanto limpava as lentes dos óculos e se desfazia dos equipamentos de som.

"Ia bem te matar ficar uns 20 minutos com a gente no barzinho né? Tá bom seu chato, mas fica de olho no telefone porque eu não vou levar a chave de casa." - Wonwoo assentiu sem dar muita importância e o pequeno grupinho se despediu.

Mingyu, tentou secar o máximo que pôde do suor acumulado da apresentação, enquanto pegava o celular e a carteira, junto de alguns acessórios pessoais, colar, relógio e anéis. Seu cabelo curtinho e meio acinzentado escuro, estava encharcado. O pescoço e bochechas vermelhos pelo esforço do palco e os lábios rosados brilhando pela passagem constante da língua. Estava ansioso para se divertir um pouco, beber uma cerveja gelada e comer bem antes de ir pra casa.

Ajeitou um pouco da calça jeans de lavagem escura e larga em suas pernas e passou um pouco mais de perfume por cima da blusa preta justa que usava. Pegou uma camisa social pra deixar por cima e arregaçou as mangas até os cotovelos. O pessoal já se encontrava no carro, ele foi ao lado de de Jun, que estava no banco do motorista, juntos de alguns staff's e seguranças que acompanhavam eles discretamente. Não achavam que iria ser necessário, mas entendia que era preciso mesmo assim.

O local era intimista, a iluminação discreta e a música relativamente baixa, tendo em vista outros locais parecidos onde já foram. Na parte de dentro, a decoração se dividia entre as cores preta, vermelha e dourada. Sofás e mesas espalhadas pelo local, uma grande bancada de frente pro bar com alguns assentos acolchoados, e um bom espaço pra dançar, que estava mais cheio, levando em conta o restante do local. Para um sábado, estava bem vazio até. Um dos staff's foi em direção ao bar e pediu pra eles se acomodarem em algum dos sofás. Cerca de 10 minutos depois ele estava de volta, com alguns cardápios e itens de mesa, como guardanapos e temperos.

"Pedi pra eles deixarem um atendimento personalizado pra nossa mesa. Alguém vai atender somente à nós hoje, pra maior conforto, então, podem escolher o que quiser." - todos assentiram e agradecaram em uníssono. Mingyu dividia o cardápio com Hoshi enquanto escolhiam algo.

Era um local mais globalizado, tinha opções coreanas, mas era bem diverso nas opções, de bebidas e comidas, mas Kim foi no básico, cerveja e porção de carne com molho agridoce e batata frita. Enquanto os outros escolhiam, ele conversava um pouco com o segurança, até que uma voz suave chegou por cima do barulho, falando cordialmente, em um coreano perfeito.

"Olá pessoal, boa noite. Me chamo Lana e vou atender vocês durante a noite. Posso anotar o pedido de vocês?" - a voz doce e macia aos ouvidos chamou a atenção de todos na mesa, porém Mingyu parecia ter sido atingido à mais.

A morena, com mechas iluminadas no cabelo preso num rabo de cavalo, uma pequena parte de franja cobria sua testa enquanto caia pro lado. Seus olhos verdes pareciam saltar sob as lentes dos óculos, e os lábios carnudos e brilhosos se curvavam num sorriso. Parecia alta, mesmo que ainda fosse menor que Kim, os quadris largos acompanhavam suas pernas grossas, cobertas pelo tecido grosso do jeans. A pele que estava exposta nos braços tinha uma cor caramelizada sob as luzes do local, à deixando ainda mais bonita. Sua cabeça viajou por todos os locais visíveis da mulher à sua frente, sem prestar atenção nas pessoas chamando seu nome.

"Mingyu?" - DK cutucava o braço do amigo que despertou num susto, arrancando risadas dos amigos. - "O pedido cara, a coitada da moça vai criar raiz aqui esperando!"

"Ahn? Sim, sim. Perdão! Eu vou querer..." - sua voz parou um pouco, ao voltar o olhar pra ela e vê-la com o mesmo sorriso acolhedor. Pigarrou um pouco antes de continuar, sentindo suas bochechas esquentarem. - "Uma cerveja gelada e uma porção de tangsuyuk com batata frita. Por favor."

"Certinho! Alguma preferência pela marca de cerveja?" - seu tom doce e sorriso contido continuava à tirar o fôlego dele.

"Me surpreenda." - seu sorriso de canto apareceu e um leve piscar foi direcionado à moça, que assentiu risonha e se retirou.

Assim que a moça saiu, assobios e gritos foram ouvidos pela mesa, todos ao redor zoando a tentativa de flerte de Kim. Ele não ligava, estava acostumado com isso. Sempre foi descarado apesar de ser um pouco tímido, mas vez ou outra sua coragem e tesão falavam mais alto e ele não se sentia inibido com isso. Sabia dos seus atributos físicos e de como eles podiam ajudar, então só aproveitou pra tentar falar com ela novamente, enquanto mandava mensagens frenéticas pra o telefone, que vibrava ocasionalmente na sua mão.

A noite foi passando gradualmente, entre doses de soju, latas de cerveja e copos de whisky. DK, sua namorada Sora e Hyuna, a namorada de Dino se divertiam na pista, o local bem mais vazio do que estava antes, dando chance até pros funcionários sentarem um pouco, descansarem um momento antes que o próximo pedido fosse feito. Lana, estava atrás do balcão, um pano branco e úmido na mão enquanto limpava o local, que logo seria ocupado por um braço musculoso, coberto por uma manga preta.

"Está mais disponível agora senhorita? Ou precisarei pedir mais algumas latas de cerveja pra isso acontecer?" - a voz de Mingyu era branda, rouca e sutil, quase um furacão. Lana riu pela pergunta e pela tentativa tão descarada de flerte.

Por ser estrangeira num pub coreano era quase acostumada com homens descarados, mas por ser uma celebridade, estava impressionada pela forma direta - mesmo que ele achasse que não - que ele falava com ela.

"Talvez com mais duas latas eu te dou um pouco da minha atenção, vai bater minha meta do dia e vou ser liberada!" - resolveu entrar na onda dele.

"É sério?" - ela assentiu tentando segurar o riso. - "Pois pode me dar as cervejas e vir pra esse lado do balcão, senhorita." - ela riu alto da forma como ele falou mas estendeu a bebida pra ele. Ele fez o movimento de chamar com o dedo indicador e ela foi, enquanto desamarrava o avental que usava e ria pelo jeito descarado dele.

Enquanto se sentava ali, ajeitando uns fios soltos de cabelo, Kim passeava os olhos pelo corpo dela, ainda com o uniforme, justo, marcava bem as curvas, a bunda arrebitada, as pernas apertadas pela calça, os braços gordinhos ajustados pelas mangas da blusa polo, que também mostrava bem o desenho superficial de seus peitos, segurados pelo sutiã, que ele acreditava ter renda pela forma que marcava no tecido. Sua boca salivava, não apenas pela bebida gelada à sua frente, mas pela curiosidade crescente de encostar a boca nela.

O papo fluiu levemente e de forma natural. Perguntas banais como nome, idade e coisas triviais. Tudo era um pretexto, ao menos para ele, de não serem indelicados ao ponto de pularem um em cima do outro, afinal, Lana não era cega, apesar de ser famoso e muito cobiçado, Mingyu era um belo tipo de sua espécie. Grande, robusto, charmoso e muito galanteador. Ele sabia quais cartas tinha que jogar para conquistar alguém, sendo alguém fácil de impressionar, e ela por sua vez, sabia quais cartas deveria aceitar vindas dele, podendo expôr as suas também. Vez ou outra a atenção do homem à sua frente parava no aparelho móvel em suas mãos, que ela viu ele digitar rapidamente vez ou outra. Vendo a chance de brincar com isso, aproveitou.

"Precisa de um pouco de privacidade senhor Kim?" - um sorriso quase presunçoso dançava em seus lábios. Mingyu franziu as sobrancelhas, confuso pela pergunta.

"Ahn? Privacidade? Pra quê?"

"Ah, para poder falar mais confortavelmente com sua pretendente aí na tela. Não quero atrapalhar de forma alguma." - seu tom era sorrateiro, e seu sorriso cresceu mais ao perceber a boca de Mingyu abrindo ainda mais ao perceber o que ela havia dito.

O movimento logo foi substituido por uma risada baixa, cética e um tanto sensual. Seu corpo imponente se levantava do banquinho que estava sentado, e com passos firmes e rápidos se aproximou da mulher em sua frente. Suas mãos igualmente grandes e calejadas passaram brevemente pela sua bochecha, um carinho quase debochado, e logo seguiu para lateral de sua cabeça, tentando ajeitar uns fios de cabelo para trás da orelha, enquanto abaixava o corpo em sua direção. Assim que sua boca estava relativamente perto da orelha direita dela, sua mão fincou com mais força na parte de trás de sua cabeça, especificamente no rabo de cavalo, fazendo-a arfar baixinho pelo contato um tanto bruto.

"Não sei se você não percebeu, ou está fingindo, mas a minha pretendente de hoje, é você. Entendeu?" - sua voz saiu cortante e grave. Pesada do desejo que ele estava começando a deixar escapar pela sua boca. Com a mão ainda em sua cabeça, ele sentiu ela concordar e se afastou um pouco, tendo a visão de sua boca carnuda entreaberta e os olhos semicerrados.

"Posso saber do que se tratava ao menos? Já que você resolveu deixar tudo bem claro." - ele riu baixo, quase cruel com a pergunta feita. Deixando o espaço entre eles maior, apoiou o braço na bancada, inclinando o corpo pra frente, sussurando de forma quente.

"Ah meu bem, é que eu não sou uma pessoa egoísta sabe? Quando vejo algo tão gostoso assim que nem você, meu primeiro instinto é querer dividir." - seu sorriso ladino adornava seu rosto, enquanto Lana engolia seco, pensando ter entendido do que se tratava.

"Ah é mesmo? E com quem você estaria me dividindo?" - sua mão encontrou o braço apoiado na madeira lustrada e deu um leve aperto, mostrando que não estava ofendida ou acanhada com o que foi dito. Mingyu lhe ofereceu um sorriso aberto, lindo, antes de responder.

"Porque você não vem comigo e descobre?"

O caminho até o apartamento de Mingyu estava sendo uma descoberta. Lana nunca achou que pudesse ficar tão nervosa dentro de um carro, e Mingyu nunca achou que pudesse ficar tão animado. Quando saiu do pub com ela, se despedindo dos meninos e deixando o dinheiro da conta com o staff que ficou, pediu pra que ela colocasse uma máscara por precaução e pediu para o segurança os levar até o apartamento, com receio de pedir um táxi e ser reconhecido. O caminho todo, a mão dele repousava em sua coxa, e às vezes procurava sua mão para acariciar e dispersar um pouco do nervosismo. À 5 minutos de casa, sentiu seu telefone tocar, atendeu com um sorriso presunçoso no rosto.

"Oi. Sim cara, já sei. A gente tá praticamente na porta do prédio. Beleza, valeu. Deixa a porta aberta hein?" - deu uma breve risada e se despidiu. Virou o rosto rapidamente para o lado e viu a expressão de expectativa e animação misturadas no rosto dela, mesmo que tentasse esconder. Seus lábios frios tocaram suavemente a pele macia de sua bochecha e ela deu um pequeno salto, surpresa. Ele sorriu pequeno e sussurrou em seu ouvido. - "Estamos quase chegando. Se quiser desistir fica à vontade tá bem? A gente pode só beber e conversar se você quiser."

"E perder uma boa foda pra fechar minha semana corrida de trabalho? Por favor Kim Mingyu, nem sonhando." - ela falou igualmente baixo, para não deixar sua conversa ser ouvida por outros, mas não pôde controlar a risada de Mingyu.

O carro estacionou dentro do prédio poucos minutos depois, Kim agradeceu ao segurança e segurou na mão gelada de Lana e subiram em direção ao elevador, que visava o 7º andar. Pelo horário, não havia ninguém circulando no prédio, e obviamente, no elevador também não. Assim que passaram no primeiro andar, ambos lado a lado, Mingyu afastou os cabelos longos, agora soltos, para o lado, deixando a clavícula e o pescoço expostos para seus lábios curiosos. Os beijos estalados ecoavam na caixa de metal. A mão dele presa na cintura dela, pendendo pro quadril, enquanto as dela alternavam entre segurar a barra atrás de si e o braço dele.

"Você é tão cheirosa linda. Sua pele é tão macia. To doido pra explorar cada canto desse pedaço de caramelo." - a voz dele saia abafada pelo contato da boca com a pele dela.

"Mingyu por favor, eu não quero fazer barulhos no elevador. Se acalma um pouquinho vai." - ele parecia não escutar, ao passo que se encaixou atrás dela, beijando mais seu pescoço enquanto segurava seu cabelo.

"Não tem problema bebê, pode fazer o barulho que quiser, prometo que não me incomodo." - a cabeça dela, batia em seu peito, pendendo pra trás, provendo mais acesso, mais espaço. O quadril dele se movia pra frente, roçando na bunda dela, o volume já sensível, o que só a fez arfar mais.

"Não faz assim Gyu... Você tá sendo malvado. Já estamos quase chegando no andar, espera um pouco." - sua voz sofrida saia em rompantes da boca, ofegante mesmo sem fazer esforço.

"A sorte do pessoal desse prédio é que eu não vou chupar você aqui dentro desse elevador. Estou sendo muito descente!" - ele falava em tom de brincadeira, ainda a abraçando por trás.

Quando ela ia responder, o elevador se abre e ela não tem a chance, então apenas segue ele para a porta com o número 247. Não sabe o que esperava quando entrou no local, mas certamente não era o local enorme e bem arrumado que encontrou. O apartamento era lindo, luxuoso pelo bom gosto mas nada de extravagante. Tinha set ups de jogos pela sala, muitos puff's, um sofá enorme e muito confortável, além de uma televisão gigantesca, numa estante com jarros e muitas decorações. E isso era só a sala. Lembrada de tirar os sapatos na entrada, ficou apenas com as meias enquanto Mingyu tirava a blusa social e estendia no cabide atrás da porta, logo vindo pegar a bolsa e o casaco dela, pra colocar no mesmo lugar.

"Sua casa é muito linda. Eu adorei." - seu sorriso era sincero, assim como o de Mingyu, agora de frente pra si, uma mão en cada lado do seu rosto.

"Prometo fazer um tour nela assim que possível, que tal?" - seu corpo se aproximava mais e mais, até a bunda dela bater na parte de trás do sofá, encurralada entre ele e móvel, suas mãos envolvendo a cintura dele.

"Adoraria ver cada pedacinho dessa casa. Principalmente se for com você." - ele sorriu novamente, depositando beijos ao redor de seu rosto inteiro, até parar à centímetros da boca. Encarava os lábios com fome. Gula. Desejo.

"Posso?" - a voz saia rouca, calejada de tesão. Ela assentiu e ele fechou a distância.

No momento em que os lábios se tocaram, as mãos saíram viajando. As dele, prenderam ela no sofá, fazendo ela sentar em cima do estofado. Passeavam entre as costas e os cabelos dela, apertando a cintura um momento ou outro que sentia o pau pulsar. As dela agarravam a blusa preta que ele usava, como se precisasse tirar, e só aquilo oferecesse um resquício de realidade. O beijo era intenso, flamejante, molhado. Os lábios se reconheciam cada vez mais. As línguas se tocavam em breves choques. A respiração era descompassada e irregular. Sobreponha a necessidade de oxigênio do outro. Lana gemia brevemente na boca de Mingyu cada vez que ele apertava sua cintura, ou afundava mais seus quadris na coxa dela, precisando de uma fricção de alívio.

Com a falta de ar eminente, se separaram mas não completamente. Kim logo voltou com suas investidas no pescoço dela, mordicasva, sugava e beijava. A cabeça pendia cada vez mais pra trás, completamente perdida no prazer. Só recobrou a consciência quando ouviu um piguerrar na sala. Seus olhos abrindo brevemente, enquanto suas mãos ainda presas ao cabelo curto de Mingyu. Quando focou o olhar na pessoa, viu um homem belo. Cabelo grande e preto, só com uma calça de moletom e o óculos no rosto. Wonwoo. É claro. Tudo fazia sentido agora. Tentou esconder seu sorriso de satisfação, mas imaginou que ficou visível, já que Wonwoo mantinha os olhos fixos nela.

"Resolveu vir pra casa bonitão?" - a pergunta foi direcionada ao amigo, mas os olhos ainda estavam nela. - "Você deve ser Lana, estou certo?"

"Sou eu sim. Muito prazer Wonwoo." - sua voz parecia retraída, mas era apenas receio que fosse gemer sem nada acontecendo. O moreno pegou sua mão livre - a outra ainda agarrava Mingyu - e levou rapidamente aos lábios, beijando brevemente.

"Pode ter certeza, o prazer é todo meu." - seus olhos passaram brevemente com os do amigo, um olhar cúmplice compartilhado, mas logo sua atenção voltou pra ela. - "Você quer beber alguma coisa? Temos soju, vinho, cerveja, leite de morango e água." - ela riu brevemente pela lista dita.

"Eu aceito o vinho, por favor."

"Certinho, vou pegar pra você. Fique à vontade." - ela agradeceu e se sentou no sofá, enquanto Mingyu se despedia com um beijo na bochecha dela, avisando que iria tomar banho. Wonwoo logo voltou com a taça com o líquido bordô. - "Aqui está."

"Muito obrigada Wonwoo." - ele se sentou ao seu lado no sofá, completamente confortável. Tinha uma taça em sua mão também e ele logo deu um gole.

"Você e Mingyu se conheceram no pub hoje?" - ele perguntava brandamente.

"Isso. Ele estava lá com outros membros e algumas pessoas também. Eu trabalho lá nesse horário da semana, e ai fiquei responsável por atender a mesa deles. Pouco tempo depois ele começou a dar em cima de mim descaradamente e agora estou aqui." - ela resumiu tudo com facilidade, como se fosse um detalhe bobo o fato dela estar prestes à ser comida por dois homens gostosos assim.

"Entendo ele. Mingyu geralmente é bem descarado, mas o bom gosto dele é inegável. Percebesse por você. Acho que faria o mesmo se tivesse lá." - seu rosto sereno não combinava com o teor sexual de sua fala.

"Bom, mas agora eu que estou aqui não é? Fica bem mais fácil pra você." - não tinha porque ter vergonha, estava pingando de tesão e sabia disso, o vinho intensificando mais, e a fome com que Wonwoo atacou sua boca acendeu ainda mais.

Wonwoo não pediu licença alguma ao introduzir a língua na boca de Lana, doce pela bebida. O gemido dela foi incontrolável, as mãos voando automaticamente para os ombros largos e desnudos, enquanto as dele puxavam seu couro cabeludo. Suas pernas se esfregavam uma na outra, tentando servir de alívio momentâneo. Sua calcinha estava encharcada ao ponto de grudar em sua boceta. Seu tesão aumentando à cada vez que sua língua brigava com a de Wonwoo por alguma dominância. Ele sugava, mordiscava e explorava cada canto da boca dela, a falta de ar ficando mais visível. Mal escutou passos vindo do corredor, o êxtase tomando conta de seu corpo.

"Vejo que já se apresentaram um ao outro então?" - Mingyu dizia animado, vendo a dificuldade de ambos se soltarem. Assim que recobrou parte de consciência, Lana olhou para o outro homem em pé atrás de si no sofá. Sem camisa. Peitoral e abdômen definidos com pequenas gotas de água salpicadas. O suficiente para soltar outro gemido.

"Porra linda, você tá gemendo pro vento hein? Que maldade deixar ela assim Mingyu. Vamos acabar com o sofrimento dela." - Wonwoo falava enquanto acariciava seu cabelo, fazendo a mesma derreter ainda mais.

"Vamos sim, mas antes, preciso que você responda algo bem rapidinho pra mim, ta bem bebê?" - ela assentiu ainda meio desnorteada. - "Eu preciso saber o que você se sente confortável em fazer e o que não. Só isso. Pra gente não passar nenhum limite. E alguma palavrinha de segurança pra você, apenas por precaução." - ela assentiu, parecendo pensar um pouco.

"A palavra pode ser soju mesmo. É curta e fácil." - eles concordaram e esperaram ela continuar. - "E eu não fiz uma limpeza profunda hoje, então acho que meu ânus ta proibido, mas de resto, podem fazer o que quiser comigo."

"Qualquer coisa?" - Mingyu perguntava com a expectativa de uma criança.

"Sim, por favor. Qualquer coisa. Podem me tocar, me bater, me xingar, me foder. Em qualquer lugar da casa. Eu só preciso de vocês." - sua voz era desesperada, e parecia patética pra quem visse de fora, mas ela não poderia se importar menos.

"Ai como você é boazinha pra gente bebê. E não se preocupa tá? Seu cuzinho vai ficar quietinho, a gente vai aproveitar bastante essa sua boquinha e sua bocetinha tá bem?" - ela concordava freneticamente, implorando como uma cadela no cio. Mingyu riu. - "Tão desesperadinha. A bocetinha ta doendo é amor?"

"Tá doendo muito. Por favor, eu preciso de vocês." - choramingava sem pudor, eles amavam cada segundo.

"Seu pedido é uma ordem princesa."

O caminho até o quarto, não se sabia de quem, foi um borrão. Beijos distribuídos entre os corpos suados, a blusa dela jogada em algum canto do corredor, mãos ágeis apertavam os seios fartos, e ela não sabia onde colocar seu desejo, sua boca era engolida por outra quente enquanto gemia pelo prazer que não se contentava em ficar preso na garganta. Seu corpo foi sendo empurrado para dentro do cômodo, que logo teve a luz ligada e seu peso foi jogado na cama. O peito subia e descia em rompantes, ofegante e rápido, descompassado de sentimentos tão ferozes que lhe atingiam como uma onda. Enquanto tentava recuperar o fôlego, sentiu uma mão quente passar pela sua barriga, abrindo os olhos vendo Wonwoo olhando cada centímetro de seu corpo, a boca meio aberta, quase escorrendo a baba de tanto desejo. Como se pedisse permissão, ela concedeu e os dedos esguios voaram para desabotoar a calça.

Seu colo tão desocupado, agora contava com a boca de Mingyu, beijando, chupando e lambendo a disposição de pele. Suas mãos voaram para o cabelo curtinho e com cheiro de shampoo, procurando algo para segurar, enquanto mais um gemido alto saia do fundo de sua garganta quando os lábios frios e levemente rachados de Wonwoo tocavam a parte interna de suas coxas, agora desnudas. A sensação de estimulação estava lhe consumindo, sem saber o que pedir, o que querer, de quem esperar. Apenas a antecipação de ser tocada e consumida pelos dois.

"Meu bebê, o que você quer hein? Você precisa nos dizer amor. Quer que eu foda sua boquinha? Ou quer o Wonwoo? Te daremos o que quiser linda, é só pedir." - Kim perguntava, mas Lana parecia impossibilitada de dar alguma resposta coerente.

"Eu to sentindo o calor da sua boceta neném, ela ta implorando pra ser tocada, seja boazinha com ela." - Jeon beijava o pé de sua barriga esporadicamente enquanto falava.

"Eu... Eu quero. Por favor. Eu quero." - as palavras eram entre cortadas pela falta de fôlego.

"O que você quer? Fala pra gente linda." - Mingyu consumia seu pescoço, mordiscando sua orelha deixando a voz rouca entrar fundo nela.

"Você Gyu... Na boca. Por favor. Fode minha boquinha por favor." - sua boca salivava em pensar em ter o pau pesado na sua língua.

"Eu fodo amor. E o Wonie? Onde você quer ele?" - seus olhos marejados miraram o moreno, que esperava com expectativa o seu veredito.

"Você me chupa Wonie? Mete sua língua bem gostoso em mim?" - a voz era baixa, sedutora.

"Chupo amor. Até você vazar na minha boca. Levanta o quadril rapidinho pra eu poder te chupar gostosinho vai." - ela rapidamente obedeceu e ele prontamente retirou a calcinha azul que ela usava, guardando no bolso da calça e beijou a parte da virilha para acostumar ela.

Mingyu se desfez dos shorts que usava, o pau já pulsando das interações anteriores, inclusive da breve punheta que bateu no banho, mas não era o suficiente. Sentia que poderia gozar 5 vezes seguidas sem sentir vontade de parar pelo puro tesão que sentia ao olhar pra ela, deitada, pronta pra ser comida pelo amigo. Abaixou as alças do sutiã que ela usava, logo em seguida as taças, deixando os seios pularem da peça. Apertava eles brevemente enquanto se posicionava com um joelho dobrado perto da cabeça dela e a outra perna esticada. Virou o rosto vermelhinho pra perto de onde sua glande ja expelia pr��-gozo, acariando as bochechas enquanto passava a cabeça vermelha nos lábios grossos dela.

"Abre essa boca gostosa pra mim princesa. Respira bem fundo, e se precisar parar é só bater três vezes na minha perna tá bem?" - ela assentiu, e ele introduziu o pau no buraco salivante.

No momento que ele entrou em sua boca, Wonwoo introduziu a língua dentro da boceta molhada dela. Um uníssono de gemidos se fez no quarto. Todos levados pelo prazer, tudo se intensificando. Lana agradecia por Mingyu controlar a velocidade da mamada com sua mão atrás de sua cabeça, o abdômen flexionando à cada investida, o olhos apertadinhos de prazer e a borca aberta, enquanto gemia sem pudor. Seus olhos estavam fechados enquanto tentava se concentrar em engolir o pau grossinho o máximo que podia, mas ainda assim conseguiu sentir quando a língua de Wonwoo saiu de dentro de sua boceta e foi para seu clitóris, deixando o espaço aberto e pingando, que logo seria preenchido por um dedo dele.

Longo, fino e bem ágil. Assim que entrou o local quentinho, atingiu o ponto certo, fazendo as costas de Lana arquearem e gemer alto apesar do pau de Mingyu tomando o espaço de sua boca. Wonwoo se remexia na cama, roçando o pau nos lençóis, buscando algum alívio para si mesmo. Sentia que podia gozar só de chupá-la. A boceta pingava na cama, vazando entre os fluídos da excitação dela e da saliva de Wonwoo. Ele iria enlouquecer.

"Sua boceta é tão gostosa amor. Você precisa provar Gyu. Fazia tempo que não comia uma boceta tão boa. E responde tão bem, tá apertando meus dedos como se fosse meu pau. Mas aposto que não aguenta ele, aguenta?" - Wonwoo perguntava, o queixo e lábios brilhando pelo líquido que tomava como água, enquanto socava os dedos mais fundo nela, os olhos verdes revirados de tesão.

"Aguento sim Wonie. Aguento, por favor. Mete em mim, mete? Me abre toda pra você." - ela falava sem ter certeza que seria compreendida, a cabeça nublada de pau, completamente fudida.

"Caralho sua puta. Eu vou foder você até te fazer esquecer como que fala. Você só vai abrir essa boca pra receber pau e porra." - ela assentia ouvindo Wonwoo falar, como se agradecesse e esperasse que ele fizesse o que prometeu.

A mão dele se encontrou com a bochecha dela num tapa leve, antes de Mingyu colocar o pau de volta. Ela gemeu em reprovação quando os dedos de Wonwoo à deixaram, mas quase gozou quando viu ele introduzir as falanges na boca de Kim, o mais alto gemendo quando sentia o gosto da boceta dela pelos dedos do amigo. A boca não ficou desocupada por muito tempo, Jeon logo beijou ele, prolongando o gosto por mais tempo, só parando quando Mingyu precisou gemer por sentir o pau tocar no fundo da gargante da mulher, que via tudo chorando de prazer. Com a boca ainda aberta, Jeon abaixou um pouco a cabeça de Mingyu para cuspir dentro de sua boca, que agradeceu com um gemido.

"Deliciosa a putinha não é?" - o moreno perguntava, limpando o canto da boca.

"Pra caralho." - Mingyu respondia ofegante, pulsando de desejo.

"Aonde você bota as camisinhas Gyu?" - ao ouvir a palavra, Lana foi rápida em se desvencilhar do pau melado de Kim.

"Não! Não Wonwoo. Por favor. Eu sou infértil, estou limpa e tomo anticoncepcional por precaução, por favor, não precisa. Quero sentir você inteiro, me fode sem por favor!" - sua voz saia frenética, desesperada, à ponto de chorar se não sentisse o pau de Jeon dentro de si.

"Caralho sua cachorra. Você vai me matar de tanto tesão." - ele proferava cuspindo as palavras sem pudor, selando seus lábios num beijo bagunçado e molhado, sentindo o gosto do pré-gozo de Mingyu na língua dela. - "Eu vou te foder como você quer então, como a putinha que você é. Espera até ela acostumar com a sensação tá?" - terminava a frase direcionada ao amigo, que estava abocanhando os mamilos durinhos dela, assentindo ainda assim.

Wonwoo massageou um pouco a entrada molhadinha pelo estímulo anterior, se concentrando na bolinha de prazer que estava inchada e pulsando. Sua cabeça gordinha brincava entre os lábios da boceta escorreguenta, arrancando gemidos altos e desregulados de Lana. Com cuidado, e sem pressa, começou a introduzir, pouco à pouco. Sempre parando e massageando o clitóris pra fazer ela relaxar, toda vez que ouvia ela chiar pelo pau intruso em sua boceta apertada. Não era pequeno, sabia disso, também não chegava à ser enorme, um pouco maior que Mingyu, mas bastante grosso, e estava duro como pedra, cada veia saltava pelo comprimento.

Quando entrou por completo, praguejou alto e ficou parado, esperando ela parar de tremer um pouco, além de apertar em volta de seu pau. Ela havia gozado, mas se falasse algo, poderia gozar também. Era quente e macia, engolia seu pau perfeitamente como uma peça de quebra cabeça. Os gemidos sôfregos e arrastados preenchiam o quarto, Mingyu deixou seus seios queitos um momento enquanto tentava alcamar ela com um leve cafuné.

O corpo curvelíneo espamava embaixo deles, tentando entender o orgasmo que lhe atingiu.

"Vamos lá bebê, preciso que respire e relaxe pra mim." - a voz de Wonwoo tentava apasiguar a situação errática que ela se encontrava. Suas mãos grandes alisavam a barriga cheinha, pra acalmar ela mais rápido.

Sua respiração logo se estabilizou, e com um aceno de cabeça, Wonwoo começou a se movimentar dentro dela. Lento, fundo e forte. Mingyu tentou conter os gemidos dela colocando seu pau novamente em sua boca, mas as vibrações vocais só aumentavam ainda mais seu prazer. Jeon se curvou brevemente sob o colo dela, mordendo pescoço e lóbulo, sugando os seios marcados, tudo para tentar conter os próprios gemidos. Suas mãos passeavam pelas coxas fartas, as dobras da barriga e o rosto molhado de lágrimas, saliva e gozo.

"Porra amor, me aperta assim de novo. Eu vou gozar pra você. Onde quer?" - ele perguntava em meio aos beijos, esperando uma resposta que demorou a vir.

"Dentro Wonie. Goza dentro, me mela inteira gatinho." - foi automático, e bem eficaz para a reação de Wonwoo que foi imediata.

"Sua filha da puta. Gostosa. A boceta mais gostosa que eu já tive. Quero deixar ela branca, pingando com a minha porra." - os dedos agiam rápido no clitóris gordinho dela, pronto pra fazer ela gozar em seu pau de novo. - "Você vai sair daqui com a perna escorrendo de tanto que eu vou te comer sua vadia. Vai deixar todo mundo ver que eu te comi vai?" - estava maluco de tesão.

"Vou, por favor Wonie." - era arrastado o que falava, sem força. - "Goza dentro da sua putinha, goza." - foi o suficiente.

Não só Wonwoo atingiu o clímax, o gozo de Mingyu também pintava seu rosto. Sua boca aberta pelos gemidos ao sentir a porra quente de Jeon bater no fundo da boceta, ela também recebia o gozo quente de Mingyu. Ambos gemiam, repetiam seu nome como um mantra, enquanto ela apenas emitia sons desconexos com a realidade. Seu orgasmo lhe atingindo com tamanha força à ponto de perder o ar em seus pulmões. Não sabia o que fazer com si mesma. Mal sentiu em seu estado de bliss quando Wonwoo saiu de dentro dela. Quando ele juntou um pouco do gozo que escorria pelas pernas e enfiou novamente dentro de si. Não sentiu quando Mingyu saiu de seu rosto e parou em sua frente, trocando as posições.

Recobrou a consciência quando sentiu as mãos ásperas de Mingyu correrem em suas pernas, ainda trêmula, a cama pesando ao lado de sua cabeça, uma toalha úmida limpando seu rosto dos fluídos de Kim. Ao abrir os olhos, se deparou com os olhos grandes e brilhantes de Mingyu, um sorriso acolhedor. O peito vasto e brilhoso de suor, a corrente fina um pouco torta no pescoço. Pendurando o peso do corpo nos braços musculosos, ele se abaixou enquanto beijava ela mais uma vez, viciado em seu gosto que agora tinha um pouco dele. Se beijaram por um momento, lentamente, se explorando com as línguas, cuidadoso.

Depositando selinhos pelos lábios e rosto, ele se levantou um pouco mais, a corrente a poucos centímetros da boca rosada que acabara de beijar, os olhinhos quase fechados pelo prazer. Observava todo o colo marcado pelas bocas famintas dele e de seu amigo. Pegou um travesseiro perto da cabeceira, e posicionou embaixo do quadril dela. Com ela mais esperta agora, Lana viu ele esticar a mão para o lado enquanto Wonwoo lhe entregava algo que não identificou. Mas era gelado, e um pouco macio.

"Recuperou as forças meu bem?" - a voz de Mingyu era quente, contida.

"Um pouco. Mas ainda quero você Gyu. Preciso de você." - esticava os braços num movimento quase infantil enquanto envolvia o pescoço do homem em cima dela.

"Também preciso de você minha vadiazinha. E eu vou comer sua bocetinha bem gostoso, pra te ouvir gemer como a puta que você é, tá okay?" - seu rosto sereno e gentil enquanto falava, fazia ela apertar o nada, se melando de prazer.

Ela só conseguiu assentir, dando permissão para que Mingyu lhe entrasse agora. Por já estar melada da porra de Wonwoo, a entrada foi mais suave, mas não mais fácil. Ele era um pouco menor que Jeon, mas muito grosso. Sentia cada parte de sua boceta gritar quando ele entrava, sem tanta paciência. Com o pau completamente enterrado nela, juntou as pernas para criar mais fricção e levou para o ar, segurando na dobra do joelho com uma mão. A outra se abaixou ao lado da cama, e apertou um botão. Um barulho vibratório chegou aos ouvidos de Lana. Seus olhos arregalando e sua respiração falhando.

"Isso vai ajudar na nossa parte linda. Porque eu só saio de dentro de você, quando você esguichar no meu pau, entendeu?" - com a voz agora grave, séria e firme, Lana entendeu que ele não estava brincando. Engoliu em seco e assentiu.

Mingyu começara a se movimentar com precisão, a mão mantendo as pernas trêmulas no ar, enquanto a outra passeava com o vibrador pelo seu corpo. Peitos, pescoço, barriga, braços, pé. Os sons dela pareciam guturais agora. Era impossível que não ouvissem de fora do apartamento. Suas mãos agarrando os lençóis, mas logo uma foi substituída pelo pau de Wonwoo, que sentava ao seu lado. Assim que ela começou a punheta, o vibrador entrou em contato com seu clitóris, fazendo ela apertar o pau em sua mão trêmula, que ameaçava soltar se não fosse mais um tapa desferido em seu rosto por Wonwoo, que segurava seu queixo.

"Se concentra sua puta. Segura meu pau direito, e recebe essa pica gemendo bem gostoso." - seu tom era ríspido, mas extremamente excitante.

Não estava em condições para concordar ou não, apenas tentou se concentrar nos movimentos de sua mão, mesmo que Wonwoo ajudasse vez ou outra, ao ver seus olhos revirando quando Mingyu atingia o ponto certo e o vibrador engolia seu clitóris. Sua mente apagada de qualquer sentido. O rosto lavado de lágrimas. Palavras desconexas saindo de sua boca. Tinha certeza que já havia gozado algumas vezes ali, sendo totalmente super estimulada. Sua mente via branco, mas conseguiu formular algo ao sentir brevemente o pau de Mingyu pulsar na sua boceta, indicando que ele estava perto, e ela também. Perto de cair num abismo de prazer absoluto.

"Min...gyu. Gyu, por... favor. Eu não... não aguento mais." - sua voz saia entrecortada com soluços, chorando como uma vadia patética.

"Vai gozar pra mim de novo amor? Vem melar meu pau mais uma vez. Me lambuza inteiro minha putinha linda." - sua mão largou as pernas que segurava, abrindo elas agora, deixando-a bem exposta.

O vibrador agora tinha mais acesso ao ponto inchadinho de Lana, que gritava pelo prazer agora. Mingyu segurava em seus quadris, forte o bastante para deixar marcado, tentando se equilibrar em algo, enquanto as estocadas estavam mais frenéticas. O vibro, tocava levemente na extensão do seu pau, mas era suficiente pra aumentar ainda mais o frenesi que ele estava. Os olhos escuros de desejo. A boca rosada aberta pelo esforço. O peito vermelho e suado. O abdômen contraindo enquanto tentava postergar seu orgasmo. Wonwoo havia soltado a mão de Lana do seu pau, e apenas assistia os dois naquele momento, batendo uma punheta pela cena que via.

"Vamos lá princesa, goza pra mim. Me deixa sonhando com essa bocetinha deliciosa por semanas vai. Goza pra mim e eu prometo que te como em cada canto dessa casa. Vai amor, se deixar ir. Goza bem gostoso no meu pau." - os pedidos de Mingyu pareciam uma brisa suave na tempestade que Lana se fazia. Ela não ouvia mais nada além de seu prazer.

Tudo aconteceu de uma vez, no momento certo. Ela se sentia cada vez mais molhada, sentia estar vazando nas pernas. Mas foi quando Mingyu meteu um pouco mais forte e pressionou o vibrador com um pouco mais de vontade que ela explodiu. O orgasmo tomou conta do seu corpo inteiro. O nó que apertava o pé de sua barriga de desfez em água. Água que escorria em enchurradas pela cama e pelo pau de Mingyu. Seus olhos parando na parte de trás de sua cabeça. O gemido parando seco na garganta, sem forças de deixar ele sair. Mingyu se despejava dentro dela, afastando o vibro pra poder segurar firmemente seus quadris e receber mais ainda do que ela despejava.

Sua boceta latejava. Suas pernas tremiam. Seu corpo balançava. Os olhos fechados sem nenhum pensamento por trás. Mesmo que Kim já tenha parado de se mover sentia o orgasmo se prolongar. Já havia esguichado antes, mas nenhum havia tirado tanto sua força vital como esse. Pensou que fosse desmaiar, e ainda em seu estado catatônico, achou graça ao ver o pensamento se formar em sua cabeça. Após um breve momento Mingyu se retira de cima dela, se abaixando rapidamente para lamber a junção de fluídos que sua boceta guardava. Estava pegajosa e melada. Ele amava isso.

Ela gemeu agoniada pelo contato repentino, sem aguentar mais nada para si, mas Mingyu não se demorou. Depois de lamber e recolher um pouco, foi em direção à Wonwoo que estava limpando as mãos após ter gozado em si depois da cena. Segurou a cabeça do mais velho e se aproximou pra mais um beijo, despejando parte dos líquidos deles em sua boca. Wonwoo gemeu ao perceber o que era, e a junção dos gostos deles invadiu sua língua. As mãos segurando o pescoço do mais alto para prolongar um pouco mais do beijo. Amava compartilhar os fluídos assim com ele, mas não diria isso em voz alta. Se separaram após um tempo do selar, ao ouvirem murmúrios incompreensíveis vindo da cama, compartilhando um sorriso cúmplice.

"Isso é nojento Gyu." - Jeon falava tentando manter o tom sério, que não enganava nenhum dos dois.

"Ah cala a boca Wonwoo, já vi tu lamber minha porra da boceta da Miyaura quando a gente comeu ela, e me beijou hoje depois de chupar a Lana. Você é um pervertido igual, se não pior." - Mingyu falava rindo enquanto molhava uma toalha limpa no banheiro e voltava pro quarto, encontrando o amigo rindo pelo que foi dito.

"Os jovens de hoje não tem mais respeito pelos mais velhos mesmo." - fingia tristeza na voz, mas logo riu de novo depois de Mingyu arremessar uma almofada em sua direção. - "Vou preparar uma chá pra ela, pegar uns biscoitos também. Tenta não foder ela de novo enquanto eu tô fora, não acho que ela aguenta."

"Sim senhor, chefe." - bateu continência e riu baixo depois do amigo fechar a porta do quarto, lhes deixando sozinho.

Lana ressonava levemente, não sabendo exatamente o momento que apagou, só não conseguiu mais ficar de olhos abertos por muito tempo. Mingyu sentiu pena de acordá-la, mas precisava fazer. Depois de perceber que ela estava mais consciente, pediu licença para limpá-la de forma superficial, tirando a parte grosseira dos fluídos que estavam por ali, ajudou a levantar - mais como carregá-la - para ir ao banheiro, e trocou rapidamente os forros da cama, que estavam encharcados. Sabia que ela não conseguiria tomar banho agora, então apenas pegou uma blusa sua e deu pra ela usar, que aceitou e vestiu de bom grado.

Pouco depois, Wonwoo chega no quarto com o chá e biscoitos. Deixando na cômoda do lado da poltrona que ela estava, enquanto Mingyu arrumava todo o quarto. Alisava suavemente seus cabelos, sussurrando palavras encorajadoras e bonitas. Ela voltava à ficar leve de novo, mas ele insistiu que ela comesse algo. Depois de alguns goles no chá de camomila e dos biscoitos, Jeon ajudou a colocar ela na cama, deixando-a confortável o suficiente. Ficou ali fazendo um leve carinho em seu cabelo enquanto o amigo não voltava. Podia parecer sonso e desligado, mas não era idiota. Sabia que Kim estava parcialmente interessado na mulher ao seu lado.

Depois de colocar toalhas e roupas de cama na máquina, Mingyu volta pro quarto, pronto pra oferecer algo mais para Lana. Mas só encontrou ela dormindo, com Wonwoo sentado perto de suas coxas, fazendo um carinho leve na pele macia. Ele sorriu com a cena, se prontificou a deitar ao lado dela, deixando um espaço pro amigo, como se perguntasse se ele se juntaria aos dois, mas Jeon prontamente negou. Depositou um pequeno selar na testa da garota e desejou boa noite pro amigo, mesmo que o sol estivesse pra nascer já. Deu um último sorriso para Mingyu e fechou a porta do quarto, deixando apenas os dois ali.

Enquanto observava a respiração profunda de Lana, Mingyu rapidamente caiu no sono também. O corpo involuntariamente se aconchegando com o dela. Enquanto sua mão segurava firme nas costas dela, não sentiu, pelo sono que lhe atingiu, quando as mãos dela se esparramaram em seu torso. Uma forma de saber, e confirmar que ele ainda estava ali. E que havia sido real.

Bom, foi isso kkk. Foi minha primeira vez escrevendo algo sexual com três pessoas, espero ter me saído bem! Esse eu não fiz um quadro visual da personagem, apesar de achar que consegui descrever ela bem, vocês podem imaginar ela como quiserem, inclusive diferente de como coloquei! Espero que tenham curtido a leitura, até mais! xoxo

#smut #seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #kim mingyu #jeon wonwoo #mingyu #wonwoo #minwon #one shot #fem!oc #juno #sabrina carpenter

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studioeisa · 8 months ago

Text

blindsided 👓 wonwoo x reader.

★ office worker!wonwoo x reader. ★ word count: 2.7k ★ genre/warnings: mdni. 18+ content. alternate universe: office, co-workers. pining, feelings realization/denial, 3 + 1 fic-ish. lewd thoughts, alcohol consumption. making out, hand job, loss of virginity, praise kink. ★ footnotes: inspired by the business proposal scene. we all know which one, but gif attached anyway. :-)

(Or: The three times Wonwoo keeps his glasses on, and the one time he doesn't.)

Wonwoo knows he's done for the moment that you walk in for your first day.

Despite his bad eyesight, he's not blind. He can tell when somebody is hot, and you fit that bill. Sue him.

Still, he tries to rationalize. There's not a lot of good-looking people in the company's IT department. That's probably it, he thinks to himself, as you smile warmly and introduce yourself to everyone.

Wonwoo has just been deprived of good views. That's it. That's all.

As you go to do rounds, he tries to focus on troubleshooting the network issue that some higher-up has been complaining about. But then you get to him, expecting his name, and Wonwoo suddenly can't bring himself to care about the DNS check he's supposed to be running.

"Jeon Wonwoo," he says in a perfectly level voice. "Welcome to the company."

Your face lights up. "Oh! I think you're the one who's supposed to be training me on the new systems."

Right. His boss had mentioned this. Something about onboarding the newbies. And Wonwoo had said yes, because that was just the type of person he was.

Fan-fucking-tastic, Wonwoo thinks as he gives you a quick once-over.

He manages to look bored as he does it. Almost scrutinizing. Truthfully, Wonwoo is not-so discreetly checking you out. The crisp white blouse, the tight pencil skirt, the black stockings.

So help him, God.

"Hope you can keep up," Wonwoo says for the lack of better thing to say.

The easy smile on your face remains, like you're unperturbed by Wonwoo's infamously cool demeanor. Somehow, that makes things infinitely worse.

He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose as you leave to meet other people. He tries very, very hard not to watch the way your hips move as you walk away.

You're good, he'll give you that.

Wonwoo, once again, tries to make excuses. One had to be good in this field of work, in this company. You're not an exception; you're supposed to be the norm.

Even as the thought crosses his mind, he knows it's not entirely true.

There's one too many nepotism babies and pushovers who barely survive performance evaluations. But you're good. Eager to learn. Sharp in all the right places.

Wonwoo is a little bit jealous.

He doesn't have time to dwell on it, though, in between training you on the company's cloud service models and hammering out the new machine learning workflows.

And so he keeps his head down, and he points out the bugs in your codes, and he chalks up his initial attraction as a moment of weakness.

That is, until the two of you are last to leave the office on an unassuming Tuesday evening.

The two of you had gotten in to some long-winded debate about the future of AI. Wonwoo is only made acutely aware about how much time has passed when the janitor shuts off the lights, assuming everyone has gone home. You giggle; Wonwoo cracks the smallest of smiles.

As you both emerge from the company building, Wonwoo's glasses fog up.

It's a normal enough occurrence that he shouldn't be annoyed but it's also a little bit embarrassing. He's used to going home late, to being alone when he does this little ritual of his.

He's just about to take off his glasses when you do it for him.

There's nothing much he can do or say as you gently tug the glasses off his face, as you use a corner of your blouse to swipe off the condensation on the lenses. You're saying something— something about this being the most annoying thing about wearing glasses, about knowing the struggle— but Wonwoo can't hear it.

His gaze is fixed on your lithe fingers and the careful way they hold his specs. Something sparks in the back of his head. A thought, unbidden. How those fingers would look so much better wrapped around his—

Jesus. Wonwoo swallows hard as you hold out his glasses back to him.

The look on his face must be odd, because you're suddenly apologetic. "I must have overstepped," you say sheepishly.

Overstepped?

Wonwoo is pretty sure he's the one overstepping. He's the one imagining you bent over his desk, after all, where he'd be more than happy to keep two fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet.

Instead, Wonwoo mumbles "you're good" as he puts his glasses back on just a little too forcefully. The nose pad presses in to his skin and leaves the smallest of marks, but he figures he deserves it with how he's being.

Wonwoo decides that maybe he's just repressed.

He's always been too busy to sleep around, to sleep with anyone, so this is just some twisted form of karmic justice. To have someone so desirable within sight but not within reach.

He asks for Mingyu to start setting him up on dates. His best friend is a little too glad to comply.

Wonwoo goes on about four before giving up.

Because it doesn't matter if he ends the night with a heated kiss or a mouth around his cock. Every single time, with each girl, he can only picture his company's drab cubicles, fingers flying across a keyboard, clicks of heels on a floor. (You, you, you.)

Things only go from bad to worse when the company celebrates its annual Christmas party at some swanky speakeasy. The alcohol is free-flowing, and God knows that Wonwoo needs it— because you're certainly not doing him any favors.

Your dress is a touch too short, and your smile is pretty, and Wonwoo really needs to get his head out of the goddamn gutter. He cannot, should not be fantasizing about what it would be like to drag you in to the alleyway outside, to hitch up your leg around his waist, to finally feel his aching hardness slide in to your—

"Wonwoo?"

He starts. It's a good thing he downed his drink earlier. Otherwise, he might've spilled his cuba libre all over the front of your purple dress.

You're squinting at him, a playful sort of grin on your face. For a moment, he terrified you've read his mind, but then you're slurring out, "Your glass is empty."

"That it is," Wonwoo says dryly. He lets you lead him over to the bar.

As the two of you wait for his drink to be made, you pull the rug out from underneath Wonwoo once again.

It happens so fast. One moment, you're discussing go-to karaoke songs; the next, you're grabbing his spectacles and trying them on for yourself.

They're ill-fitting on you and the frames don't match your face shape. Wonwoo nearly winces when you awkwardly try to adjust them by the temples.

"Your eyesight is a lot worse than I thought," you whine— a whine, my God. Wonwoo wants to die then and there.

When his whiskey sour is served, Wonwoo shoots it back and promptly orders another one.

"How do I look?" you prompt, tilting your head to one side.

For a moment, Wonwoo contemplates telling the truth.

You look like sin, he could say. You look like you'd make the prettiest sounds if your back was up against the door of the bar bathroom, if his hands were feeling you up over your dress, if his mouth was leaving open-mouthed kisses along your throat.

Wonwoo shakes his head. He's definitely not drunk enough to be saying all that.

"Fine," he grumbles. "You look fine."

Once you've had your fun, once his glasses are back on his face and you're off to charm whoever the hell else, he'll wish he could have been a little more truthful.

Here's the thing: For all of Wonwoo's intelligence as the company's go-to IT guy, he's still pretty oblivious where it matters.

He doesn't realize that you don't really give two shits about AI, that you're only staying so late at work for him. He doesn't pick up that your party dress had been purple because he had offhandedly mentioned once that it was his favorite color.

All of those little things only hit him when he finds you standing outside his apartment, looking mildly miffed. "How much longer do I have to flirt with you, Jeon Wonwoo?" you demand.

Oh. Oh.

"Not another day more," Wonwoo promises as he wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you in to his flat. He thanks all the higher powers in the universe that Mingyu has decided to buzz off for the night.

Wonwoo's mouth is on yours the moment the door shuts behind you. It's messy, all clashing teeth and warring tongues. The sudden force of it has you reeling back a step.

His fingers find purchase at your hips, right over the very skirt of his wildest fantasies. You tilt your head like you're trying to deepen the kiss— only to have your forehead bump against his glasses.

You make a sound of protest against his mouth and he swears he sees stars.

Without missing a beat, Wonwoo lifts one of his hands just long enough to pull his glasses off. He casts them aside unceremoniously. He'll buy a new pair if he has to.

He's back to kissing you before you can even open your eyes.

By some miracle, the two of you make it to his bedroom.

It's only then that Wonwoo manages to tear himself away from your mouth, looking slightly panicked.

You're pinned underneath him, the top buttons of your blouse already undone. And you're a vision— your hair splayed out underneath you, your chest rising and falling with every heavy breath. Wonwoo has to resist the physical urge to keep making out with you.

"I—" he chokes out. "I haven't—"

Thank God you're smarter than him, because you immediately get what he's trying to say. You prop yourself up by your elbows to look at him. "We don't have to," you say carefully, your fingers curling around his bicep.

"That's the thing." He doesn't even bother to hide how desperate he sounds. "I kind of really fucking want to."

The smile you give him then makes his heart stutter. He resolves to unpack that later.

Right now, he focuses on the way you pull off his slacks, the way you spit in to your palm, the way you dip your hand past his boxers and—

"Holy shit," he exhales, because this is definitely leagues better than his imagination.

You're watching his every reaction as you slide the curve of your palm against him, as your fingers close and squeeze and tug, and it takes absolutely everything in Wonwoo not to flip your positions.

He prays for patience; he prays for grace. He prays that he doesn't finish just from a goddamn handjob.

Once you've deemed him sufficiently hard, the two of you do switch positions. Wonwoo reaches in to his bedside drawer for the condom that's been sitting there for months. (Mingyu, the cheeky bastard, had left it there as a gift. Wonwoo has never been more grateful for his best friend.)

Wonwoo snaps it on with a lot less finesse than he would've wanted. Soon enough, he's hovering over you, his fingers curled in to a white-knuckled grip around his sheets.

"I should probably stretch you out a bit," he whispers, his voice strained with the effort it's taking to keep himself together

But you shake your head, your hands catching in his dark locks as you practically drag him down. "Wonwoo, I swear," you whine. "If you don't fuck me this instant—"

It's not the hands in his hair that does it. Not the bluntness of your words.

It's that stupid, stupid whine.

Wonwoo thrusts in to you without preamble, and the scream catches in your throat as he fills you up.

"Fucking take it, then," he hisses.

Wonwoo was a bit worried that his inexperience would get in the way, but there's one thing he seems to have in common with you: He can be a pretty quick learner, too.

His thrusts are a bit clumsy and erratic, but he figures out what you like based on the sounds that you make, the way that you move.

You arch your hips up whenever he bottoms out. You whimper whenever his balls slap in to the cleft of your ass. And when his fingers finally find your bundles of nerves, you say his name so beautifully.

"Just like that, Wonu," you gasp, rendered incapable of saying his full name. He likes the way it sounds, so he rewards you with another sharp thrust. You babble on, "Fuck, yeah. That's good. You're so fucking good."

Something inside him burns, then. Enough to have him picking up the pace, to have him pressing the calloused pads of his fingers in to every inch of bare skin that he can reach.

You seem to notice his renewed vigor, and the minx that you are— despite the fact you're being fucked stupid— you give him more.

You moan that he's perfect and doing so well and so fucking hot, and his cock only bullies in to you harder with every pretty word.

"I'm not going to last—" Wonwoo warns through gritted teeth, his grip bruising on your hip. "I'm not going to last much longer if you keep talking to me like that."

His fingers are already fumbling; his pace, stuttering. He's not sure how much more praise he can take, but then you have to go and whimper about how badly you've wanted him, just like this—

Wonwoo manages to bottom out just one more time before coming undone.

The feeling of him twitching inside you, of him panting against the side of your neck, has you following not long after. It's absolutely torturous, the way you clamp down on him like you're squeezing him dry.

Wonwoo gathers his bearings enough to pull out. He heaves out a sigh and falls back on to his bed beside you, his own thighs still shaking a bit from all the effort he's exerted.

A beat. Neither of you speak; you're both too busy catching your breath, coming down from your respective highs.

But then you're sitting up, moving, and Wonwoo physically feels his heart drop.

"Where are you going?" he stammers. He can't even bring himself to sound cool about the prospect of this just being a one-time thing.

You put him out of his misery rather swiftly. At the foot of his bed, you pause, take one look at his face, and then soften significantly. Your gentle pat to his ankle is a welcome reprieve.

"We should clean up," you tell him, somehow managing to reassure his unspoken fears. "Where's your bathroom?"

"Ah— first door down the hall."

You don't pull on any of your clothes as you go, so Wonwoo doesn't bother to hide the way he watches you leave.

Once you're out his bedroom door, Wonwoo suddenly feels boneless. He sinks further in to his bed and contemplates how the hell he's going to go about this— whatever this is.

Wonwoo's overthinking is cut short when you bound back in to his room, your hands behind your back. He barely has any time to speak before your lips are on his.

It's a sweet kiss, one that catches him off-guard. He's frozen for only a millisecond before his eyes flutter close and he melts right in to you, his hand resting at the side of your face.

It's not quite the answer that he's looking for, but it's a close thing.

When you peel away, his head rises from his pillow, desperately chasing your mouth. You let out a tinkling sort of laugh before pulling your hands out from behind you— and placing his glasses on for him.

Wonwoo blinks confusedly underneath his lenses.

"Just need to make sure that you can see what you're getting in to," you tease as you push his hair out of his forehead.

He just looks at you for a second. And oh, is he done for.

"Yeah," he breathes. "I see you."

#jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo smut #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #( wonwoo with glasses. save me. save me wonwoo with glasses )#( pathetic attempt at a 3 + 1 fic. u will be seeing more of that from me btw ... ! )#( listened to sabrina's Juno the whole time i was writing this woooh )#(💎) page: svt #(🥡) notebook

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hueseok · 8 months ago

Text

it was always you.

for as long as you remember, you’ve always had the fattest crush on your childhood friend, jeon jungkook. it never blossomed into something more though, because that’s what happens when life naturally takes it course—you grow up, you move on, and you pretend that those feelings never existed in order to maintain the good friendship that remained between the two of you over the years.

so when he visits you after work one day, asking you to marry him, you do everything you can to refuse, because the reason he’s asking you isn’t due to the fact that he finally realized that he loved you after all this time, but because he thinks he’s doing you a big favor.

or at least, that’s what you think.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 13.2k

rating: 18+

content: fluff, semi-angst, childhood friends to lovers au, pining au | ft. naval aviator!jungkook + brother’s best friend!jungkook; professor!reader + editor!reader | inspired by purple hearts

warning/s: swearing, potentially wrong medical & military information (i’m sorry but i tried to do as much research i can 😭), mentions of having type 1 diabetes, making out, heavy petting, implied sexual content: oral (f. receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (this is only fiction!)

MINI PLAYLIST: ♫ die with a smile — lady gaga, bruno mars ♫ juno — sabrina carpenter ♫ selfish — *nsync ♫ nandito na ako — benj pangilinan, angela ken

opening note. omg this is my first full length fic in two damn years i think??? certainly took a long time before i had the motivation to write again but i hope y'all like this! to my og readers who still keep up with my shenanigans, this one's for you 🥹💗

“Any questions?”

A boy wearing half-rimmed glasses raises his hand and you gesture for him to speak. “Can we get an extension on the Save the Cat project due tomorrow?”

You sigh, just as several of your students begin agreeing with him and muttering reasons of their own why the extension should be approved. It’s the week before finals, and you’re aware that the class must be packed with assignments and projects for several of their classes because of it, hence the rather last minute request. They look tired and pleading, a complete reflection of how you were when you were the one in their position nearly a decade ago, begging for an extension from a professor who you thought was kind enough to be swayed with the proposition.

You scan the crowd. “How many of you are at least 70% with it, hm?”

More than half of the class raises their hands.

“Okay, that’s honestly unexpected,” you say, pleased to know that they aren’t slacking on your subject. “Does Monday sound good? That’s three more days, to be fair. I don’t want to extend it further because I have to read everyone’s work and you guys know I don’t like rushing it before turning in your final grade.”

A chorus of relief and thanks echoed in the room, all of your students either dramatically sinking in their chair or erupting in an animated conversation with their seatmate or making crying faces to portray how grateful they are.

“Thank you so much, Ms. ____!”

“I love you, Ms. ____!”

“Ms. ____, I will offer my first child to you,” one theatrically adds and you smile a bit, rolling your eyes at students like this one who is now opting to flatter you way too much for your act of kindness.

“Alright, alright. Just get it done and I’m expecting quality work, okay? Class dismissed.”

The whole class begins to gather their things at the cue and you don’t stay there a minute longer after your announcement, exiting the lecture hall to head to the faculty room where you’re certain half of the teaching staff have gone home already. It’s already 8:47 p.m., and all you want to do is head home to get the rest you deserve after an eventful day.

There was a time that having a schedule from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. wasn’t the norm for you. You used to value work life balance so much—it was even a nonnegotiable you used to say in interviews, saying that if you didn’t get enough rest within the week, then the job most likely wasn’t for you. But things have been very different for the past months; you have definitely grown out of that mindset due to the fact that you’re simply in need of another source of income to pay for your monthly rent, utility bills, and now your medication. You’re in a stage of your life wherein you consider working part time as a professor was a blessing rather than a big nuisance.

Making a right turn to where the hallway to the faculty room is, you’re too busy rearranging the papers inside the folder you’re holding to notice a man sitting on the bench placed just beside the entrance. He notices you the second you appear in his line of vision though; he straightens his posture and proceeds on standing up immediately upon seeing you closer, calling your name softly when you failed to look at his direction, too preoccupied with the thought of finally coming home that you’re oblivious that the man trying to catch your attention is Jeon Jungkook.

“____,” he calls again and this time you notice him, your eyes widening instantly.

“Holy shi—” You stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “Jungkook?”

He grins. “Hey, lamb chop.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Is that how you greet an old friend?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He laughs, following suit to you who’s already giggling just by his presence alone, outstretching his arms then. “You gonna hug me or what?”

You beam and step forward to embrace him. He returns it without hesitation, muscular arms circling around you and squeezing tightly that it lifts you up from the ground for a quick second. The faint smell of fabric conditioner on his clothes enters your nostrils and you feel like a teenager again, warmth rushing to your face while your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Regardless of how old the both of you are, you think your hopeless crush on the guy will forever live on and constantly transform you into a middle school girl whenever opportunities like these to have him near arise. You’re just happy you’ve trained yourself to be better at hiding it now compared to when you were younger.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in base or wherever it is that you’re designated?” you ask, the first to let go from the hug.

“Actually, I returned from deployment three days ago. I’m on leave for two weeks.”

“Wow. Two weeks, huh?”

“Yep. It’s the longest break I’ve gotten in a while.”

“That’s good. Everybody needs a break from time to time.”

“Says the girl has a day job and a night job.” He points out with a smirk; your heart does a little leap at how handsome he looks doing that. “When the hell did you get into teaching, by the way? I never pegged you to be the kind who can tolerate it. You hate kids.”

“You’ll find yourself tolerating lots of things in this economy.” You snort. “And my students aren’t kids. They’re in college.”

“Yeah, which you graduated from six years ago. Still technically kids.”

“Are you seriously jabbing at my age when you’re two years older than I am?”

He rolls his eyes at that one, an indication that you won the argument. “Anyway,” he starts again and you grin, “I didn’t come here to compare how old we are—”

“You didn’t?”

He sends you a look. Your grin gets even wider.

“I’m here because I was hoping to treat you to dinner.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, not masking the surprise from your voice.

Let’s get the facts straight before we proceed to this conversation.

It isn’t a lie when you say that you and Jungkook are great friends. You have been since you were 7 and your family just moved into the house next to theirs. He was a natural playmate, a companion when you couldn’t tolerate the antics of your older brother, the boy who looked out for you aside from said older brother, and the person you’ve shared significant history with throughout your youth that you can never seem to forget nor disregard.

It’s just that you never deemed that you were great enough friends for him to go out of his way and visit you at your workplace, offering to treat you for dinner. Gestures like that were reserved for your older brother, Seowon, who’s the same age as he is and who you’re sure is considered as his best friend. Compared to them, yours and Jungkook’s dynamic shifted slightly after graduating from college. What once was a really close friendship turned into a casual one, with mostly just teasing, light talks, and the occasional welfare checks at times you hear certain news from the other that’s worth speaking directly about.

At the mention of that, realization dawns on you on why he must be here.

“Jungkook…” You’re trying not to sound mad but you can’t hide the exasperation from your voice. “That’s not the real reason you’re here.”

“Of course, it is. Why else would I be here?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” you ask, not willing to drag this out. “You’re just going to give me another lecture that I definitely don’t need.”

Jungkook frowns, like he’s dismayed that you caught on pretty swiftly.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You pressed.

“He meant well, ____.”

You scowl. To remark that Seowon is unnecessarily nosy and coddling would be an understatement. That man hasn’t left you alone the second he was aware of your condition. Usually, whenever he gets into his ‘big brother tendencies’, his girlfriend Winnie steps in and helps you lay him off your back. However, it’s different this time; no matter how much you reinstill your independence and insist that you’re fine, it’s like you’re talking to a wall.

“What exactly did you hear from him?” you query.

He seems hesitant in answering that. “That you got diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.”

You wince.

“Look,” he steps forward towards you, “I wasn’t going to bring it up unless you did, okay? I’m just here because I’m genuinely worried about you and I want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.” You murmur. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Worry doesn’t vanish magically just because someone says so.”

“Well, it should—because I’m fine.”

“You sure? I heard that you’re struggling to buy insulin among other things you’re having a hard time paying.”

“Fuck. Seowon told you that too? That’s private.”

“My parents know. He just filled me in because he wants you to have as much support as you can get.”

“I don’t need that. I’m an adult. I’ve lived by myself for years. I can fend for myself just fine.”

“It doesn’t look like it from what I’ve been hearing.”

“All you’re hearing is a warped and exaggerated version of the story told by Seowon who won’t listen to a word I say.” You huff. “I’m fine and I’ve been doing everything I can, alright? I’m taking care of myself. I’m going to the doctor whenever I need to. I’m making ends meet, buying treatment for this goddamn disease and regulating my sugar levels all the fucking time. Why do you think I’ve been working two jobs for the past year? It’s because I’m doing everything I can to stay alive.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, he only remains gazing at you.

“If you’re here to offer me money or whatever because of what he said,” you add, already embarrassed that you can’t even look at him anymore, “then I don’t want it.”

“That’s not what I’m here for,” he says.

“Then are you really just here to treat me to dinner?” you question sarcastically.

He laughs and you dare return your eyes at him, catching him peering at you with a fond expression. “Yes. It’s my way of doing a welfare check.”

“Welfare check.” You echo with squinted eyes. “Well, in that case, here I am—alive and healthy.”

“I can see that, and I’m glad.” He smiles. “But I need more than just seeing you. I need a conversation and an apology.”

“An apology?”

“For being the last person to know about your condition.”

“And we’re still talking about that apparently.” You mutter under your breath. “Sorry. I didn’t think that you wanted to know.”

“Of course, I would have wanted to know. It’s you we’re talking about here.”

Something about how he said you causes your lips to twitch as you fight off a smile. This isn’t a good time to dive into your romantic feelings for your childhood crush, but when he’s letting go of lines like that which are sure to have your heart soaring out of your chest, it’s hard to keep on a cool and unfazed facade. You just convince yourself that he sees you as a little sister and that’s why he’s so worried; you should already be past your ‘delulu’ phase at this age to be affected by such statements.

“I didn’t want to add to your worries,” you reason. “You already have your life to think about. Add to the fact that you’re a naval aviator—so you literally have your own life first to think about.”

“I can make space for you.”

Is he flirting? Is this a normal thing to say between friends?

You blink. “Okay, uh, that’s… that’s completely up to you, I guess.”

“I just like knowing those things first hand. It makes me worry less.”

“Got it. Next time I learn I’m dying, I’ll tell you.”

“____,” he says your name in warning, and you know he’s serious.

“Sorry.” You heat up. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass.”

“I promise that’ll be the last time I make a dark joke, Lieutenant.”

Jungkook’s nostrils flare. You prevent yourself from grinning like a fool again in success of getting on his nerves.

“Are you done here? Because I’m hungry and would really like to get going now.” He changes the subject and gestures to the faculty.

“Yeah. I’ll just get my things and then I can get out of here.”

“Great. You’re letting me take you to dinner, right?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.”

“Fine.” You deadpan.

This time, he’s the one who’s beaming at you. “I’ll wait for you here and we can go.”

“Okay.”

****

When Jungkook discovered that you had type 1 diabetes through a phone call with Seowon, he spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, ignoring the snores of his squadmates and overthinking what’s supposed to happen to you now that you had an autoimmune disease which he was told didn’t have a cure. He was assured that you were okay despite it, that there was medication to treat it, and that you had access to them and have been very careful with your lifestyle due to the diagnosis ever since.

He still couldn’t be put to ease though. As ridiculous as it may sound, he had this overwhelming realization that life truly was short, that you had to make certain decisions all the time because you need to adjust to what the universe is only willing to give you. It was funny coming from a person who risked his life for a living. He thinks that perhaps he never understood the philosophy of the quote ‘time is gold’ until he had a loved one on the same trajectory, always one step closer to possible death.

And so that same night, he decided to file a leave for two weeks, effective immediately after his deployment.

He wasn’t sure what his game plan was exactly in filing that two-week leave. Was he supposed to barge in your life and force you to let him take care of you? Was he supposed to demand why you ended up having diabetes? Was he supposed to act as a big brother like your actual big brother because he was that worried about you? But if Jungkook was going to be truthful, he already had an idea on what he wanted to do in the back of his head—he just didn’t want to execute it because it was absolutely insane.

Until he heard Seowon suggest it himself when they met up at a bar to share a drink together.

“She would never say yes,” Jungkook said, beyond doubt that you won’t be persuaded that easily with a plan like that.

Seowon made a face. “I know. That girl is so hyper independent—she’d rather die than accept help.” He scoffed. “She needs it though. It’ll help with her medication and she won’t have to pay rent for that shit apartment she’s living in. Plus, she'll actually get the chance to take care of her body if she’s not juggling two jobs to have sufficient income.”

“You’re right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“You’ll do it then?”

He took a sip of his beer. “Yeah. I’d do anything for ____, you know that.”

“Even as crazy as marrying her?”

“Sure.”

Seowon stared at him, narrowing his eyes and morphing his expression into a teasing one. “Are you sure you’re not just considering this because it’s a perfect excuse to marry my sister? I know you like her.”

“I don’t like her.”

“You’re in love with her.”

“I don’t—” Jungkook began to deny but Seowon was staring him down. “Fuck you, man. Don’t make me some kind of pervert who’s trying to lock her into marriage because he likes her. You’re the one who brought the idea up.”

Seowon laughed out loud. “I know, I just can’t believe you’d agree. It’ll benefit ____, that’s for sure—you, on the other hand? It’s career suicide.”

He shrugged. “I’m okay with the thought that she’ll be okay.”

“Because you love her, man.” Seowon pushed. “Why on earth would you consider this if you weren’t? It’s a fraudulent marriage. You’ll be thrown in the brig and be dishonorably discharged if you get caught.”

“We don’t even know if she’ll agree to this whole thing. You said it yourself, she would never say yes.”

“Yeah, unless maybe you’re the one who tries to persuade her.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to buy her a ring and kneel down before her or something?”

“That can work.”

“What?” Jungkook laughed.

Seowon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how she’s been crushing on you since we were kids.”

He barked out a laugh again. That he knew; it was impossible not to when a lot of friends and cousins kept on teasing you before, especially at instances Jungkook was in the very same vicinity. “We’re not kids anymore and I barely see her though.”

“Still, it ought to count to something. It raises the chances of her agreeing.”

“You’re really cool with me marrying your sister, Won?” Jungkook asked.

Seowon placed down the beer bottle he’s consuming on the counter. “Yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not perfect, but I know you enough to know that you won’t do anything that will purposely hurt her. Besides, if this sham marriage ends up to be a real relationship and then for some reason, you fuck up and decide to break her heart—I’ll easily know what to do, where to find you, and then I’ll do everything I can to fuck you up.”

Jungkook pressed his lips together to stifle a chuckle.

“Noted.”

****

It’s always been a big wonder to you how no matter how long it’s been since you saw each other, it still feels like no time has passed between you and Jungkook. You think that’s why you can never get over him; he always had this comforting and familiar aura that you appreciate—something that you sought for in every other person that you liked. Maybe it was impractical, maybe it was the reason you can never hold a relationship for more than two years, but unless you gain the courage to confront your feelings and tell Jungkook about it, then you constantly dispel any doubts you might have whether this was good for you or not.

You don’t want to lose him. Admitting that you harbored romantic feelings for him would just make it awkward for everyone: your brother, your family, and then his family. You don’t think you can ever trade his smile, the sound of his laughter, and all the good things about him for anything in the world.

“Are you dating anyone?” he asks.

You choke on your drink, having just poured yourself and Jungkook a glass of water after the server arrived with the pitcher. You’re in a Japanese restaurant near the university, aware that the cuisine was a favorite for the both of you hence why it’s what you recommended when he asked where you wanted to dine. The place is packed with people from the workforce and students; you’re thankful that you don’t see any of your students within the mix.

“We’re getting straight to it, huh?” you say.

Jungkook smirks. “I’m just making sure I’m not upsetting a boyfriend by meeting you tonight.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not upsetting anyone.”

He nods in understanding. You don’t want to add more meaning to his actions for the evening but he seems glad about the information.

“How about you?” you ask back. “Are you dating anyone?”

The ends of his mouth lift a bit upwards. “Nope.”

“Why? You don’t have the time for it?”

“Precisely.”

“It must be really hard dating when you’re in the Navy then.”

“Kinda. We’re away a lot and stationed in different places most of the time. It can get really dangerous for us too and people don’t like the stress that comes with that.”

You bob. “Does it get lonely?”

“Sometimes, but when you’re on duty, you don’t get to think about those things.” He chuckles. “Besides, I don’t know if this sounds fucked up or not—but it can get exciting. Flying a plane can be fun, you know. Not to mention that it helps when you’re surrounded by good men in your squadron.”

“You’ve always been an adrenaline junkie.”

“And you’ve always been a scaredy-cat.”

You scoff at the declaration. “No, I’m not.”

“Remember when Seowon and I forced you to ride that ship in the amusement park that sways left to right and as it goes on it falls from a higher standpoint?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But you do, and Jungkook knows you do, it’s evident by how your expression is trying to feign innocence. That memory is your villain origin story; the whole pretext of why you refuse to ever visit the amusement park or ride an exhilarating ride again. Yet you can’t help but recall that it’s one of the rare instances wherein you got to hold Jungkook’s hand when you two were younger, as his hand was the one you were clinging for dear life when it happened while the other was too busy slapping Seowon in irritation.

He snickers, appearing like he’s replaying the scene in his head. “We should do that again with Seowon during my break.”

“Hell no.”

“I thought you weren’t a scaredy-cat?” He challenges.

“I’m not.” You give him a kittenish glare. “But I am busy. I have to send the final manuscript of this book I’m editing to the chief editor next week and it’s about to be finals week for my students as well.”

He fakes a shiver. “I don’t know how you can do two jobs like that, ____. Truly.”

“You work as a naval aviator so I’d say we’re pretty even.”

The waiter arrives with your orders not long after, and you and Jungkook carry on with your conversation, jumping from topic to topic without difficulty. You’re not certain when was the last time you saw each other like this to have so much to talk about—was it last Christmas? Or was it more recent or longer than that? Nevertheless, it feels good and you find yourself blushing multiple times throughout the night, whether it’s because of how his words can have two meanings or how his eyes are staring at you so intensely whenever you’re the one who’s talking.

You like the undivided attention, the back and forth that’s occurring as you discourse, the subtle touches one of you does when something funny arises, how your knees are touching underneath the table. You wonder what’s so different with this encounter that the energy feels so bizarre in a good way? As far as you’re concerned, you’re positive that you’re acting like you always have in his presence—lively, smiley, sarcastic—and aside from the little touches of flirting here and there, Jungkook’s acting like he always has too.

When dinner was done, Jungkook offered to drive you home. You obliged, no longer in the mood to annoy him for you were tired to make the effort. Before stepping outside the restaurant however, you excused yourself to the restroom first, checking your blood sugar with the glucose meter you brought along wherever you went. It’s a hassle but it’s necessary, largely because you’re still in the middle of saving up for the insulin pump that would help you regulate your sugar levels easier.

After administering yourself with the insulin injection you have, you spend a few more seconds inside the enclosed room. You should be past the point of feeling sorry for yourself, but it’s times like this wherein you’re with a loved one that the dejection hits and you wish that you’re in a better predicament than you are right now. You’re close to being broke, you’re overworked, you’re somehow fatigued all the fucking time—those factors aren’t soothing your worries at all. It’s a miracle how you manage to keep an optimistic mind amidst everything.

“Ready to go?” Jungkook smiles at you once you’re back at the table and you nod, clutching your bag tighter against your body and following him to his car.

He drives you to your place, turning the radio on, and letting it play while the both of you sit in silence. You’re both tired and you almost even sleep during the ride. It’s only when Jungkook gently shakes you awake that you realize that you’ve arrived in front of your apartment building.

“I’ll walk you up,” he insists as you’re unbuckling the seatbelt.

“That’s no need, Kook.”

“Of course, it is,” he says. “I’ll walk you up. That’s nonnegotiable.”

So, you allow him.

It takes five minutes tops to reach the door leading to your apartment. As you rummage through your bag to grab your keys, Jungkook patiently stands there, occasionally glancing around the hallway and even smiling when the old lady that resided in the same floor got out of her room to throw out the trash. He receives a smile in return which you notice and grin fondly at.

“Well, this is me.” You turn to him, done unlocking your door. “I’d invite you inside but you should probably get going. It’s quite a long drive back home.”

“Yeah.” He breathes out a chuckle. “Hey, tonight was fun. It made me realize how I missed you.”

Your brain temporarily malfunctions; you force yourself to recover quickly. “Me too. I had fun tonight. Maybe we should do this again whenever you’re on a break.”

“Agreed.”

You flash him a smile. “You can go now. Goodnight.”

Jungkook nods, however doesn’t move a muscle. He’s looking at you, like really looking at you, his eyes moving from one feature to another, as if he’s memorizing your face or having a hard time arranging the words he wants to say. You guess it’s the latter, familiar with a tongue-tied Jungkook that it takes you a few good seconds before you’re demanding why he’s impersonating a mannequin.

“There’s something I want to say,” that’s what he utters and you almost snort due to your assumption being right.

“Okay…” The smile is still on your lips. “What is it?”

“Promise me you won’t get mad first.”

“Well, if you’re making me promise that then it’s probably worth being mad about.”

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

“That’s not convincing at all.”

“It’s just…” He begins and trails, biting his lower lip, “it’s… it’s why I went here. Why I went here to see and meet you, I mean.”

You unconsciously recoil at the revelation. It’s certainly a rookie mistake to believe that there was no ulterior motive in Jungkook meeting you today. You just didn’t reckon you’d actually be truly disappointed at that—at the idea that he just didn’t randomly decide to visit and be with you earlier until now.

You draw a long breath. “Well, I knew you weren’t just feeling generous and wanted to treat me to dinner out of nowhere.”

There’s a pause and then he resumes. “Just—before I say it, you have to hear me out, okay? You have to let me explain before you berate me.”

“I can’t promise that either.”

“You have to.”

“Why do I have to?”

“Because what I’m about to say is for your own sake. You know I always have your best interest at heart, don’t you?”

You wrinkle your forehead in further confusion. “Can you just get on with it? The vagueness is making me more annoyed.”

“I just don’t want you to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand what?”

“What I—and Seowon—genuinely think is the best option.”

“Oh, and Seowon is in on this too?” You bellow. “Have you and Seowon just been conspiring behind my back the whole time?”

“Calm down.” Jungkook puts his hands on your shoulders, a chuckle inevitably escaping him. “I’m sorry for dragging it out. You should know I’m high key afraid of you, that’s why.”

“You should be.” You grumble.

Another chuckle, but he’s back to appearing anxious. You want to shout that this isn’t healthy, that you’re close to giving him a real reason to be afraid of you—yet once he blurts the confession out, you’re speechless, gawking at him and staggering backwards in complete shock. Perhaps you would have bolted as far away from him as possible if not for his solid grasp.

“What?” You hiss.

He swallows hard.

“I want you to marry me, ____.”

You don’t bolt away running. You shake off his hold on you though, and before he gets another word in, you’re hastily rushing inside your apartment and slamming the door to his face.

****

Jungkook was your first kiss.

It happened in a game of truth and dare. You were at a party of a mutual friend and when the bottle miserably pointed in Jungkook’s direction, the person who was tasked to think of his dare when it was his pick said that he dared him to do 7 minutes in heaven with you.

He profusely refused at first, especially since Seowon was in the same party, but everybody began booing and next thing you know, Jungkook was agreeing as long as it was fine with you. When you nodded to make your consent apparent, your friends were quick to shove you both in the closet, some of them pulling Seowon back who was complaining how it wasn’t right to bully you into doing 7 minutes in heaven with Jungkook. They calmed him down once they bullied him into agreeing too.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Jungkook told you in the darkness, his breath fawning over your face. “You don’t have to feel pressured. It’s just a stupid game.”

You blushed.

Secretly, you were hoping that he’d kiss you or touch you. Who didn’t want to do anything with their crush at the age of 15? A lot can happen in 7 minutes. You were aware that sometimes people made out, went as far as third base, and although you didn’t want to go that far with Jungkook, you wanted something to happen while you were stuck in this small closet with him. There weren’t a lot of instances that put both of you in this kind of situation; you wished that you were brave enough to ask him to kiss you or do the first move yourself.

5 minutes in, Jungkook turned towards you.

“Is it true that Taehyung kissed you last week?”

You whipped your head so fast that you might have given yourself whiplash. “That’s—that’s not true. Where did you hear that?”

“During homeroom. Some girls were talking about it.”

Your cheeks burned. “Oh.”

“So, it’s not true?”

“No.” You shook your head. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” You laughed weakly.

It was his turn to seem stunned. “You haven’t had your first kiss yet?”

You shook your head again, then realized he might not see you doing so. “Not yet.”

“Want me to change that?” he asked, grinning.

He said that with a boyish grin and teasing tone, but you sucked at social cues (plus, you really couldn’t see shit that much) that you started nodding.

“Okay,” you told him.

“Huh?”

“You can kiss me.”

“Oh, oh, shit—I didn’t—” He was blabbering, about to take back what he offered. “I mean, I was just joking but—”

You widen your eyes. “You were? Oh my God, I’m sorry, I thought you were—”

“No, it was my fault. That was a little out of line for me. I’m sorry.” He was laughing and you felt like burying yourself 6 feet under. “It was a stupid thing to say. But if you want me to kiss you, it’s cool.”

“It is?” Hope sparked within you.

“Yeah. It’ll just be a peck anyway.” You can tell he was smiling through his voice. “Just don’t tell Seowon because he might punch me in the face for kissing his sister.”

You cackled. “Deal.”

56 seconds before the 7 minutes were up, Jungkook leaned down to match your level and placed his lips on yours.

****

You’re seething with rage, the embodiment of Godzilla, channeling the God of War, Ares, in your body; you harshly press Seowon’s number on your phone to call him and he answers after three rings.

“What’s up?”

“I will fucking murder you,” you snarl.

A beat. You hear shuffling. Then he answers, “you already talked with Jungkook?”

The nonchalance and calmness in his voice drives you to be more frustrated than you already are. “Yes, I have! What is wrong with you? Why would you plant that idea on his head?” You yell, not caring that your walls are thin and that your voice can probably be heard by the couple that lived next door. You’re feeling a mixture of anger, embarrassment, and every negative emotion that exists at the moment. You’re comparable to a bull who just saw the color red.

“____, it won’t be a big deal if you don’t make it to be.”

“Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Did you even let Jungkook explain?”

“I don’t need him to spell everything out. I know why he’s asking me to marry him.”

“Then you know too that it’d be good for you.”

“Marrying him won’t be good for me.”

“Why not?”

“It just won’t!”

“You’ll get health insurance benefits that you don’t get with your current jobs. You can pay less rent once you move in at Jungkook’s place—there’s a huge chance he won’t even let you pay him while you stay there too. He’s away most of the time anyway, so staying there wouldn’t be a problem. Plus, you can start studying for a masters degree like you’ve always wanted.”

You groan. “Not like this. This is crazy.”

“The both of you can divorce once you’ve saved up a little. It really isn’t that complicated.”

“It’s a sham marriage!”

“It’s a sham marriage with Jungkook.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“Are you sure? Your grade school diary might disagree.”

“Oh my God, that’s fucking low of you to bring that up. You just gave me another reason to hate you.” You stomp around the living room, acting like a teenager because of your brother’s behavior. This isn’t the first time he revealed that he’s read your diary before; that doesn’t mean it’s less infuriating to be reminded that he has. “I swear, you better fucking sleeping with one eye open tonight. I’m choking you to death.”

Seowon laughs out loud. “Just marry him. He’s surprisingly amicable with the idea.”

“That’s because you’re pressuring him! I bet you and Mom devised this entire thing together.”

“Mom doesn’t know. To be fair, she’d probably have the same reaction as you. It’s all me and Jungkook.”

“Wow. You have two brains and yet none of you thought this was goddamn stupid?”

“It’s not stupid. It’s genius if you come to think of it,” he says. “Jungkook just wants to help you, dude. He wants to make sure you’ll be okay and all that shit. You’re the reason he filed for a two-week leave, did he tell you?”

Your heart does that jumping thing again. “No.”

“Well, he did. He’s on a break for two weeks because he wants to convince you to marry him and actually marry you within that time frame.”

“This is nuts.” You sigh, finally flopping down the sofa and rubbing your face with your free hand. “The both of you are nuts. How are you okay with this?”

“It’s Jungkook. I trust him. Don’t you?”

“Of course, I do, I just—” you cut yourself off and frown, “I just feel like it’s unfair for him. I’m marrying him because of military spouse benefits and what does he get?”

There’s a long pause, and you almost check your phone to see whether Seowon has already hung up on you or not.

“It’s better that Jungkook answers that question,” he tells you finally.

“Why? You can’t answer it on behalf of him?”

“Something like that.” You can imagine him shrugging. “All I know is that he’s genuinely concerned about your health and your financial status right now. So, just think about it, okay?”

“God, fuck it, fine. I’ll think about it.” You grimace.

You hang up and glance at the door.

You don’t think the conversation you just had with Seowon took that much time. The initial rush you had upon having your longtime crush propose to you is wearing off and you’re realizing that it was a dick move to literally slam the door right in Jungkook’s face earlier, leading you to stand up from your seat and look through the peephole to check if he’s still there.

He isn’t, which you sigh in relief at.

As you lean against the door and regulate your breathing, you think how funny it is that Seowon is right about one thing—and that was grade school you would have been delighted at the thought of getting married to Jungkook. He’s your dream guy; your parents loved him, his parents loved you, the both of you got along very well, and his personality and looks are everything that you’re looking for in a partner. It sucks that you live in a world where the only reason he wants to marry you is because he’s afraid you’ll die because of self-neglect.

Your phone pings and you unlock the screen to look at the message that flashes on it.

Jungkook: hey, seowon just messaged me to say that you two already talked Jungkook: i’m sorry for jumping on you with a topic like that… Jungkook: i’m shit at confrontation lol Jungkook: also it’s the first time i’m proposing so give me some slack

You scoff at his audacity to joke about it this soon.

You: it’s okay You: i’m sorry too for what i did You: the answer is no btw

Jungkook: already??? Jungkook: let’s talk about it first

You: no need You: i don’t want to marry you

Jungkook: oof that’s harsh

You: sorry not sorry?

He doesn’t respond and you think you’re safe. Maybe Jungkook does take no for an answer and you’re confused because you’re a little disappointed that he’s not falling on his knees, begging you to marry him like what your imagination is supplying you.

However, after you took a shower and went to check your phone again, you see that Jungkook messaged you a few minutes ago in response to your last message.

Jungkook: give me 10 days and i’ll change your mind

You have the urge to go take a shower again because of how hot your body is feeling at the statement.

You: hate to break it to you but you’re not matthew mcconaughey

Jungkook: 🤣🤣🤣

****

It’s not part of Jungkook’s branding to chase a woman. Typically, women chase him; they chase him in every city and country that he gets stationed in, flirting with him and hoping that they’ll get the chance to take him home for the night for a mindblowing one-night stand. They never succeed though, for despite their pretty faces and sultry gestures, Jungkook only smiles and declines every offer, saying that he had a girl waiting back home that he loved very much.

He used to think that he only used that as an excuse because he’s not the type to hook up with every attractive girl he meets. There are times when he succumbs, when he gives into the temptation of a little fun, especially after a life threatening or highly stressful mission—but most of the time, he thinks he declines and use that pronouncement of his because his mind reverts him to the idea of you, to what would happen if he just gained the balls to ask you out.

Evidently, although asking you out and asking you to marry him are two completely different things, he’s a bit afraid that your answer will always be a hard no. It’s what you’ve been literally spelling out to him since the day he presented the idea, regardless of how he’s trying his best in swooning you or explaining how this is the perfect plan to help you gain an upper hand with your diagnosis.

“I’ll file a restraining order against you, I’m serious,” you say to him when he appears yet again outside the faculty room, waiting for you to gather your things and head home. You’re wearing a white button up shirt and pinstripe wide leg trousers, an outfit combination that he ogles at before he goes down to business.

“You wouldn’t.” He glares at you. He gestures for you to let him take your backpack, and despite what you said, you let him. “Also, what the fuck is in this thing? You’ll break your back if you keep using this.” He swings your backpack on one shoulder.

You laugh. “My laptop, its charger, a couple of notebooks, books, pens, then the outputs of my students.”

“Aren’t they supposed to submit virtually? What happened to Google Classroom?”

“I still use it, but sometimes I like to have their work printed out so I can write the comments better. How do you know Google Classroom?”

“I have a squadronmate whose kid uses it for class.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding.

You two continue walking forward.

This has been your program for the past few days. Jungkook goes to the university you work at, he’ll wait outside, you’ll threaten him with something ridiculous, he’ll take your bag, he’ll offer to take you to dinner, you’ll decline, and then he’ll drive you home anyways. Before that routine ends, he’ll lean on your door frame and give you his best puppy eyes, asking you to marry him for the sake of your welfare, and you’ll scowl at him, insisting that you don’t need his help to survive.

“Dinner?” he asks, right on schedule.

You glance at him. “No. I want to go home and sleep for 12 hours.”

“Busy day?”

“Yep.”

“You know, if you marry me, you won’t have to work two jobs and overexert yourself.”

He doesn’t need to turn to you to know that you’re giving him a dirty look. “I won’t marry you, Jungkook.”

“Why not?”

��Because marriage doesn’t work that way.”

“It does. Billionaires do it all the time. The mafia does it too. It’s always been some kind of transaction.”

“Well, if I marry you, what do you get?”

“The assurance you’re taken care of.”

“That’s cheesy.”

You share a laugh and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says. “I’ll be fine as long as you are.”

He waits for you to quip back a reply, flickering his eyes to you when it takes longer than usual. Instead of the sneer he’s expecting, you appear to be flustered, an expression that is very recognizable for him who’s known you since forever—an expression that makes it too obvious for Jungkook that the crush you had on him that he thought has been long gone was still there. He’s been seeing it a lot lately, particularly when he’s uttering lines that sound flirtatious on purpose; he’s positive that you’ll threaten to kill him when you discover that he basks on the fact that he can still make you all flustered and cute, which encourages him to do and say anything that would elicit a reaction from you. Was it unethical to seduce you into marrying him? He might have to rethink that part too.

Reaching the parking lot, he unlocks the doors to his vehicle and places your bag inside the backseat. He watches you walk around the car, about to go to the passenger’s side, but then you wobble a bit and his attempt to get inside is instantly forgotten.

“Hey,” he strides to where you are, gazing at you as you now hold onto the hood, “you alright?”

You raise your chin up. “Kook, can you get my bag?”

Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s swinging the door again and getting your bag from the other end of the backseat while you get on the passenger’s seat, keeping the door wide and placing your legs outside, your feet planted on the concrete.

“What do you need?” he asks, crouching in front of you and zipping the bag open.

“Glucometer.”

He halts. “What does that look like?”

“It’s in the yellow bag. There.” You point at it right when he rummages through a certain part.

He brings it out and you take it from his grasp. Your movements are sluggish but he can discern that you’re doing your best not to be too slow; he’d present to help but he knows that he might prolong what you’re doing due to his cluelessness, so he just observes, noting how you’re pricking your finger with a device and then pressing it lightly to the glucometer which shows that your blood sugar is low.

“Apple juice,” you mutter to him and he finds it faster than the last one.

You grab the juice pouch from his grasp, prying the straw attached on the back, pushing its end for it to pop out of its plastic cover—then your hand shakes, preventing you from continuing and punching in the straw properly.

“Let me do it,” he says.

You don’t fight him, you just slump against the seat as Jungkook picks up from where you left, and the moment he does the job and guides the straw to your awaiting lips, a long exhale through your nose escapes you.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers. He didn’t notice that he was holding his breath the entire duration of the scene.

Another sigh. “Better.”

“Does this happen a lot?”

You seem to hesitate. “Not a lot. Just when life gets a bit too hectic.”

“____—”

“Just take me home.” You don’t give him the chance to lecture you. “Please, Jungkook.”

Defeated, he nods. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

He helps you position yourself properly on the passenger’s seat. “But we’re talking about this at your place.”

Before you can protest, he closes the door.

****

Lee Hyunwoo was the name of the guy that you brought home for Christmas Eve eight years ago. It was the first time that you did, and Jungkook hated how Hyunwoo was considerably handsome, intelligent, and kind—the exact kind of person he always imagined you deserved.

In the short time Hyunwoo spent with theirs and your family that night, everybody loved him and was already inviting him to the next gathering, all the while Jungkook avoided him at every cost, puzzled by this strong dislike he was feeling for your guest. He was annoyed at the manner in which Hyunwoo had an arm around your waist the entire evening, how you grinned up to him, eyes sparkling and all that shit. Hell, you used to look at him like that.

“Honey, can you get the mango float we have in our freezer?” Jungkook heard your mother tell you, and without thinking, he stood up from his chair and made a beeline to where you were, telling you he’d accompany you to your house.

“That’s fine,” you told him. “It’s literally next door.”

“Yeah, but it might be heavy.”

“It’s not.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and agreed then, excusing yourself from Hyunwoo who was in an engaged conversation with Seowon. The pair were geeking out because of their mutual love for the MCU and the next film slated to be released the following year.

Upon arriving at your home, you dashed to the kitchen with Jungkook trudging behind you. He wasn’t sure what his next course of action should be now; all he wanted was some alone time with you, away from the presence of that college boyfriend of yours, but now that he had that, he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to say or do. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling a bit jealous—was it because of that saying? Wherein people are bound to want what they can’t have? Or was it that you only appreciate what you had when you’ve already lost it?

“How long have you and Hyunwoo been dating?” he asked, leaning against the counter as you pulled your freezer open.

“Four months, I think.”

“Four months? And you already brought him home?”

You snorted at his tone. “His family is in another country so I thought it’d be nice to invite him.”

“You must really like him then.”

“Yeah, but I’m not in love with him or anything.” You placed the mango float on the space beside Jungkook on the counter. “He’s nice, and he likes me too.”

“Does he treat you well?”

You flashed your eyes at him, amusement dancing in them. “What’s with that question?”

“What’s with it?”

“Nothing, it’s just that…” you trailed, a smirk etched on your face. “Wait a minute, are you… you can’t possibly—” Jungkook was widening his eyes, ready to deny your accusation once you questioned whether he was jealous of Hyunwoo or not— “are you pulling an overprotective brother skit on me, Kook?”

Fuck, thank God, he thought.

“I prefer ‘overprotective friend skit’,” he said.

“That doesn’t have a nice ring to it.”

“But I’m not your brother.”

“You don’t have to be, I’m just saying that you and Seowon have been acting similar since Hyunwoo and I arrived.”

“Nonsense. Seowon likes him.”

“Oh, so you don’t?”

He pressed his lips into a tight line.

“Did you just admit that you don’t like Hyunwoo?” you asked, chuckling. He was grateful that you didn’t seem to be offended by it.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him.”

“Instead you implied it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You kinda did.”

He heard you laugh and he couldn’t help but allow himself to laugh as well.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Maybe I’m just not used to you dating anyone. You are chronically single.”

“Can’t say you’re wrong.” You snorted and picked up from the mango float, marching back to his house and gesturing for him to follow you.

He did, no words spoken between the both of you once more. Though when you were entering their place again, with Jungkook holding the door open for you, he mentioned something he never reckoned he’d have the guts to mention out loud.

“When you open my gift,” he began, “don’t do it in front of Hyunwoo, okay?”

“Why not?” You weren’t paying attention to where you were going, intrigued by his warning.

“He might not like it. You’ll see.”

That night, at the comfort of your bedroom, Hyunwoo nowhere near but instead sleeping at the coach downstairs in your living room, you opened Jungkook’s gift and saw that it was a necklace with your birth flower as its pendant.

You smiled, rolling your eyes to yourself, and slept with that giddy look never leaving your face.

****

“Not so fast,” Jungkook grunts.

Did he think that you were going to be less difficult since he was helpful earlier? Yeah, he did. He likes to think that if it wasn’t for him, you would have taken longer in feeding yourself with apple juice, so he at least wanted a thank you in the form of your willingness to have an adult conversation with him tonight. However, that clearly isn’t the case because when he walked you up to your apartment like he always did, you’re attempting to lock him out, shutting the door as fast as you can once you’re inside, thus trying to prevent him from initiating that talk he wanted the two of you to have.

“Seriously?” He successfully pries the door open and you scowl at him.

“Jungkook—”

“No, you don’t get to reason your way out of this. I’m done hearing you out. It’s your turn to listen to me.” He steps inside your apartment.

You groan, striding to the sofa and throwing your bag there. “You can’t force me to marry you.”

“Is marrying me so fucking bad that you can’t get over it for health insurance benefits that can really help you?” He demands, infuriated.

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

“You can get arrested!” you exclaim. “And so can I! Does that not freak you out?”

“We’ll only get arrested if we get caught.”

“I’m not willing to take the risk.”

“I’m not willing to see you die.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Who the fuck said anything about dying? I’m not dying.”

“You almost passed out on me. You almost—”

“It’s an error on my part, I admit.” You sigh. “When I get busy and preoccupied, sometimes I forget to check my sugar levels regularly throughout the day. I’m sorry.”

“And you expect to be convinced that you have everything handled?”

“God, I’m not a child. Stop treating me like I can’t do shit for myself.”

“Please, ___,” he approaches you with the most pleading expression he can muster, and he watches as your hard expression crumbles, “just accept my help. It’s really not a big deal—you won’t even see me often, so keeping up with the whole marriage ploy wouldn’t be difficult. We’ll divorce in two years, we can pretend we never got married after that.”

“You just don’t get it, don’t you?”

“What do I not get? If you think I don’t understand something, then explain it to me—”

“I can’t marry you,” you say. You do so like it’s final, like there’s no point in arguing with you because he can never change your stand on this. As he’s pleading with his eyes to urge you to agree, you’re communicating with your eyes in a similar way that’s wishing he would just drop this. “It’s wrong.”

His eyebrows furrow. “This isn’t the time to go on your high horse and decide what’s wrong and what’s not. It’s a fraudulent marriage—of course, it’ll be wrong to some degree.”

“No, I mean…” You turn away from him, rubbing your face in exhaustion. “It’d be wrong of me to marry you. I’m taking advantage of you if I do, and I don’t like that.”

Jungkook shakes his head, frustration worsening at the childlike excuse. Surely, you weren’t that naive, were you? “You’re not. I’m not doing this against my own will. Besides, we get extra pay just for being married. If it makes you feel better, I won’t split it with you.”

“That won’t make me feel better.”

“Then what will?”

You flop down on the coach and lean back, closing your eyes. He knows he’s being a pain in the ass but he can’t just stand here and do nothing. He thinks he’s already come too far in convincing you, he isn’t going to back out now. Every single day spent together, he can feel you warming up to the idea of marrying him for health insurance. Your connection and entirety of your relationship has been off the charts recently that it’ll be harder for him not to be assured that before he leaves for his job, you’ll be taken care off.

Jungkook goes to the spot beside you, sitting down. Your knees bump together, he keeps on gazing at you, waiting for you to focus on him; a minute passes and his gaze moves to your hand that’s laying on the small space between you.

Without overthinking, he stretches out and clasps it, allowing his fingers to play with yours that finally captures your attention. The moment he glances up, he sees that you’re staring at him and he doesn’t let go, he even smiles, a quiet promise that he’s always willing to listen to whatever you want to tell him.

You hesitantly smile back. “You know,” your eyes train back to your intertwined fingers, Jungkook reveling in the warmth of your skin, gaining more confidence in acting out his feelings, “there was a time wherein I would have said yes immediately if you asked me to marry you.”

He smirks, can’t deny how hearing that inflates his ego a bit although this route in the conversation isn’t where he expected to go. “What changed?”

“For one, I grew up.”

“Ouch.”

You laugh. Then you stay quiet for a while before speaking. “Can I confess something?”

That piques his interest. “Anything.”

“But you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

“That’s impossible.” He teases. “What is it?”

You stall, readjusting your position so that you can directly face him. Jungkook doesn’t let go of your hand, he keeps it in his grasp, his thumb rubbing along the expanse of your knuckles.

“I like you, Jungkook. I really really do,” you finally say and he blinks, startled.

It shouldn’t surprise him, considering that it’s been long established that he knew of your crush already, though he doesn’t seem to have anticipated for you to boldly admit it when all these years, it’s only been some kind of unspoken understanding that neither of you downright acknowledged.

You continue speaking. “In fact, I like you so much that maybe it developed into love at some point—I’m not sure. I’m at this stage of no longer being afraid of what I feel, I think? Most of the time, I just let it occur like it’s something so natural. Like it’s a feeling that I can never get away from? Like whatever I do, there’s no way to shake you.” You chuckle half-heartedly. “Though never in a million years would I have thought that I’d confess all of this. What for anyway? I don’t want you to be burdened with what my teenage heart couldn’t rub out.”

His mind is racing; hundred thoughts, hundred scenarios, hundred experiences he’s spent with you since the day you met. Jungkook never realized how much he needed you to say that you liked him—that maybe you even loved him—until he heard it from your very mouth that you did, causing every inhibition and doubt he had to vanish. Now, he only wants to engulf you in an embrace and shout Yes, I feel the same way! Sorry for being a fucking corward and not doing this first!

He would have done all of that in a flash if it didn’t appear that you still had something to say. Based on your rather constipated posture and the hand he’s holding that’s becoming clammy, he discerns that you’re just in the first part of what you wanted to admit.

“Actually, that’s also why I can’t let myself marry you,” you say. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I don’t know… it feels really icky somehow. I feel like I’m holding you hostage, or that I’m tricking you because of an ulterior motive, or that I’m defying the laws of the universe by having the chance to marry you. I’m not sure. I just know that I don’t want to marry you if it means I’ll only get to do so because you think you’re doing me a huge favor. I don’t want to be your charity case, Kook—I deserve to be more than that, you know? I’m not traditional or whatever but if it’s not for love, I’m not keen on getting married.” You abruptly pull away from his clutch, embarrassment washing on your features by what you stated. “Plus, two years might not be that long but what happens when you meet someone and you like her? How can you explain that you’re only married to me because I need it for my medication? It’ll just be unnecessarily messy. I don’t want to hold you back from those kinds of things. I don’t want to be a hindrance.”

That’s his cue. That’s when he knows he’s supposed to kiss you and take your breath away, to admit that he’s certain that he has loved you since that one time when he was in the Naval Academy and although the training was hard as fuck, the thought of you gave him strength and he didn’t want to see anyone as much as he wanted to see you after—that when you and Seowon visited him, that familiar urge to have you alone was all he felt the entire time, solidifying the idea that perhaps he didn’t just see you as a friend.

“You’re unbelievably dense, ___,” he murmurs, smirking at the play of events, and you glance at him, expression showing disbelief that he’s somehow treating this matter lightly.

“What?”

“Do you honestly think I go around and offer marriage to every woman out there who can benefit from being a military spouse? Do you think I’m that generous? I’m not. I wouldn’t ask anyone to marry me for the same reason if they weren’t important to me—or if I didn’t like them. I’m not that much of a saint,” he adds. “I mean, I’m taking a two-week break to convince you to marry me. I’m spending time with you every single day. I’m driving for almost an hour and a half, enduring the traffic to get from my apartment to the university you work in to do that—and you think this is because I want to be charitable?”

Silence. Your forehead wrinkles. He thinks you’re still not getting the point.

“I’m in love with you, ____,” Jungkook says.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You’re opening your mouth, then closing it, then opening it again, then pressing it into a thin line. He thinks you look cute, being taken aback like this, and he’s wishing that he’s done this sooner so that the last five days of him chasing you around like a lost puppy was spent with talking more about what’s possibly waiting for yours and his relationship next.

“Are you serious?” you ask after what seems like forever. “Or are you just saying that because you’re that desperate to have me on board with the whole fraudulent marriage thing?”

“God—” He’s inching closer to you now, laughing, watching your lips twitch at his reaction— “I’m convinced that you were born into this earth to drive me fucking crazy.”

And just like that, he no longer restrains himself from kissing you.

It takes you a few good seconds before you will yourself to move. You can’t seem to process the reality of Jungkook admitting that he was in love with you and then taking the liberty to plant his lips on yours. You’re not complaining, of course, but you are a bit overwhelmed that it literally makes you freeze, unaware of what you’re supposed to do now that your fantasies are coming into life.

However, once you feel him angle his head to the side, doing so to deepen the kiss, your reflexes kick in and you’re kissing him back, encircling your arms around his neck and leaning towards him, Jungkook sighing in what appears to be relief. He grips your hips to support you as you try to straddle him, but your movements are so clumsy that you end up sprawling against his chest instead, perched on a leg of his that provides pleasure on the spot you need him the most. He chuckles at your lack of gracefulness, gliding his lips to your cheek and down to your jaw, nipping.

“This okay?” he whispers with a palm drifting to your bottom.

You nod and Jungkook’s mouth is back on yours in an instant. He squeezes your ass, takes his time in fondling with it, cheekily slapping whenever you get brave yourself and push your tongue past his lips, before he skims his hand lower to your thigh and signals for you to mount him. Upon being properly sat on his lap, you get an immediate feel of his hard length through his jeans, prompting your imagination to run wild and induce the filthiest things he can do to you if neither of you stops.

“Holy shit,” he curses, your kisses roaming to the base of his throat where you lap and suck.

It becomes a dirty pattern for a while. The both of you will take a brief pause from making out to remove a piece of clothing or kiss every other exposed skin there is: the cheek, the jaw, the neck, the collarbones, the shoulders. Then one of you hauls the other back for another passionate kiss, hands skating everywhere on your bodies, sounds of arousal echoing inside the room; you’re starting to get lightheaded but you’re positive it’s not because of your sugar levels running low.

“I hate that it took us so long to get to this point,” he mutters.

You grin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m the man—I should have confessed long ago.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. ‘Was afraid to lose you, I guess.” He draws his head back and admires your blissed out expression. “But then when Seowon told me you had diabetes, I panicked and thought that I might lose you either way.”

You go back to making out, Jungkook guiding your hips in grinding on his clothed length. It’s addictive—the intimate feel of him, how he’s not shy in making sure you know how much he’s craving to be as close to you as you are to him. You think you can spend the whole night just doing this and be okay with it.

“Fuck, Kook,” you groan against his mouth, a hand descending to his stomach and to his manhood, “you’re so… so fuckin’ hard.”

You’re palming him now, tracing the erection evident under his boxers.

He lets out a grunt. “Yeah, baby, I know.”

“Do you… do you want me—” You’re breathless, not able to continue whatever it is that you want to say.

He understands you just fine though. “No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do anything.”

You’re not sure what Jungkook means by that. How are you supposed to do nothing when you want to do everything to him? You soon comprehend what he means when he guides you to lay down on the sofa, when his lips skim lower and lower, passing your breasts, giving them the attention they deserve, until he goes lower than that and discards your underwear, kissing you in between your legs.

It’s like he’s releasing all the pent up emotions he’s been keeping all these years. His tongue and fingers are relentless, his voice is telling you that he’s eager to coax an orgasm out of you, and as he lifts himself up to return to his previous position, face hovering yours, you’re positive that he’ll get everything he wants because without a doubt you’ll give him everything he wants from you too. Hell, if he uses this opportunity to ask you to marry him again, you might answer yes straight away, no longer bearing in mind the worries you expressed to him earlier.

Although did that even matter anymore? Jungkook said he loved you. He said you drove him crazy. You never thought you’d come to see the day he’d utter those words but here you are. The man of your dreams is kissing you, pleasing you, and looking damn enthusiastic as he does all of that.

“Last chance to stop me,” Jungkook teases. His eyes are glassy and you can feel his cock nudging on your thigh.

You giggle, bringing his head closer to press another long kiss on those pink and plump lips of his. “Please never stop.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

“I’m going to take you up on that.”

“Please do.”

After this night, you’re certain that you’ll never allow yourself to be with another man aside from Jungkook. At the back of your head, you always thought that you were his, regardless if that wasn’t true or that there was no real relationship to prove that—however, at this moment, as he thrusts in and out languidly, you unquestionably know that you are. You belong to him now and he belongs to you; he lets you know through his love-filled gaze, his passionate kisses, and the manner wherein he moans your name.

“I love you,” he says, like he’s still in deep longing for your touch and affection.

You hum, tangling your fingers through the strands of his hair. “I love you, Kook.” You stare at his eyes. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t.”

A boyish grin erupts on his features.

Time passes by quickly. In a few more of his kisses, of the intoxicating slam of his hips, of his seductive whimpers, you’re coming beneath him, Jungkook pulling out and jerking his length until he too comes, his seed landing on the base of your tummy. You have the nerve to giggle at that, grinning at him with low-lidded eyes, and Jungkook hastily wipes his cum off your skin, attacking you with another passionate kiss that leaves you breathless.

“There’s no way you’re not marrying me after this,” he murmurs.

You teasingly graze your teeth on his bottom lip. “I’ll think about it.”

He groans. “Don’t think about it. Just say yes.”

“At least let me sleep on it, Kook.”

“Fuck—fine.” He grabs your sides and pulls you flush against his body. “Guess I’ll have to keep on convincing you until you agree.”

****

“God, why is this so difficult?” Jungkook whines, keeping you in his embrace, head tucked between your cheek and shoulder.

The air is very humid and Jungkook’s in his naval aviator uniform, which doesn’t look cool in a sense that air is properly flowing through the material. He doesn’t care though, doesn’t care that it’s sticking to his skin as he refuses to let you go, not even when you complain playfully.

“Kook, I’m fucking sweaty.”

“I don’t care.”

You laugh.

He’s leaving to return to his duty and you’re here with him outside the base before he enters, being with him until the last possible minute because that’s how much of a good wife you are.

Yes, you and Jungkook did get married. Three days ago in fact, at the city hall’s courtroom. Neither of you invited your parents; they didn’t know about the occasion and you refused to tell them, afraid that they may be critical about yours and his choices when they discover the true reason why you’re rushing to be wed. The only people that remained to be aware of it was Seowon and his girlfriend, Winnie, who served as the witnesses, which was fine by you. In your understanding, this was just for the papers and your health, and not the real deal yet to be celebrated lavishly.

“I’ll propose to you again after a couple of years,” Jungkook promised after the ceremony. “Let’s renew our vows and I’ll give you an amazing wedding.”

You would have told him that there was no need, but who were you kidding? You did want a proper wedding with Jungkook. The previous week didn’t even feel like you were newlyweds. Yes, the both of you compacted all of the dates you could have if one of you weren’t such a chicken in five days, and yes, though the honeymoon stage was experienced and practiced—it was only because you were a new couple who after years of hiding their feelings for one another, was now finally free to express it as much as they desired.

“Call me everyday?” you ask when he finally pulls back, Jungkook pecking your lips one more time.

“Definitely.” He smiles. “Visit me whenever possible?”

“Of course.” You kiss him too.

His smile transforms into a grin. “Take care of yourself, alright? Keep me updated all the time. No sugarcoating allowed.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

Rolling his eyes, he gives you another kiss and engulfs you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground that causes you to giggle.

“Okay, pack it up, love birds!” Seowon shouts.

The two of you turn to your brother who’s leaning on his car, the vehicle that was used to transport the three of you today. You’re still in the middle of moving your belongings at Jungkook’s place and Seowon was kind enough to volunteer helping, always dubious that you could do stuff on your own. Despite your reluctance, you let him assist you, mostly because you’re trying to make a conscious effort in not upsetting him again.

Let’s just say that when the judge hailed you husband and wife at the civil wedding, Seowon wasn’t thrilled to see that the kiss shared between you and Jungkook wasn’t as fake as the supposed sham marriage, leading him to the conclusion that in the middle of Jungkook’s ruse of convincing you to be his wife, something must have happened that led to your approval and that rather 18+ rated kiss. Mostly though, he’s just offended that neither of you thought of telling him that you were an official couple before the wedding.

Jungkook unwillingly places you down.

“I think I need to go,” you say.

He nods with a sigh. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“Call you tomorrow?”

“Yes.” You affectionately caress his cheek, bringing his face down for the very very very last kiss.

He leans into it. “Fuck, I don’t want to leave.”

“Seriously—hurry up!” Seowon shouts and you pull back.

“I will kill him,” you tell Jungkook.

“He’s your brother,” he says. “And now, my brother-in-law, so I can’t let you do that.”

“That might be your very first red flag, Jungkook, insinuating that you’re choosing my brother over me.” You cross your arms. “Tell me, if the both of us were drowning, would you save me or Seowon?”

“You,” he answers without missing a beat.

You narrow your eyes. “Is that the truth?”

“Of course. Seowon would probably undrown himself anyway and you’re shit at swimming. It’s an easy choice.”

You punch him hard on the shoulder and he feigns hurt, snickering. “For the record, I don’t think anyone can ‘undrown’ themselves—but fine, you pass the test.”

Jungkook faces Seowon’s direction and does a final salute, your brother returning it swiftly, and just like that, you and him share your last farewells. You watch as he goes through the entrance of the base and sends you a wave of goodbye; you weakly copy the gesture and stand there for a few seconds, just watching him fade from your view the further he trudges inside. You don’t think saying goodbye to him ever felt this heavy, and you blame it on the fact that after all this is the first time you’re saying goodbye to him with the assurance that he loves you too—and that alone weighs millions.

You spin on your heel and go to Seowon who’s already in the driver’s seat. As soon as you get in and wear your seat belt, he’s giving you a dirty look.

“What?” you ask.

“Please never do that in front of me again.”

His statement makes you smirk. “Why? Didn’t you want this?”

“Want what?”

“Me and Jungkook to be together.”

“When on earth did I say that?”

“You previously admitted that you were lowkey playing cupid by suggesting that Jungkook marry me for health insurance.”

A short pause. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have to watch you two reenact a porno every fucking time.”

“We’re not—”

“You are. Don’t deny it.” He grumbles. “God, every time I see you two, it’s like I’m Ross from that one Friends episode where he accidentally sees Monica and Chandler doing it from the window of his apartment.”

“Yeah, I remember that.” You laugh. “In my defense, you haven’t seen me and Jungkook actually do the deed so—”

“Wait, so the two of you have?”

Your expression drops. His tone is approaching older brother protectiveness territory and you’re quick to attempt diffusing the situation. “I will not dive into that. All I’m going to say is that I’m a grown adult and so is Jungkook.”

He grimaces before starting the engine. “Yeah, never dive into that. I don’t need to hear the details.”

You share a laugh and then silence fills the car.

You press your lips together, looking at him while he backs out from the parking spot. “Hey, thanks, by the way. For driving today, and for offering to help me later, and maybe for also never minding your own business.”

You recall how Seowon was the one who couldn’t stop worrying about you and finding a solution when you told your family that you had type 1 diabetes. Your parents were concerned, they pestered you for months to force you to accept financial assistance from them, but they gave up soon after. Seowon though? He never did. He persisted through every outburst you had; he tolerated your bitchiness and your dirty looks all the time. Out of everyone in your life, you always felt like regardless of how stubborn and prideful you could be, Seowon was worse—in the best way possible.

A crooked smile illuminates his face. “You’re my kid sister. It’s my job to never let you experience peace in your whole life.”

You scoff. “Well, you’re damn great at what you do.”

When you reach Jungkook’s apartment, unloading the boxes and arranging your stuff to its designated places, your heart swells in happiness as the reality sinks in that your life is heading in the right direction after months of feeling hopeless. It drives you to be more thankful to the little things, to the people who were always by your side, to your previous circumstance that although wasn’t ideal was still manageable. A lot don’t get to have that kind of privilege and you promise yourself that you’ll make an effort to find more things to be grateful about from this day forward.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Seowon approaches in the middle of you arranging your books on Jungkook’s near to empty shelf, “Winnie wanted to give you this. She would have handed it over herself but she’s going to be busy for the next few days.”

You take the frame from his hand and see that it’s the picture Winnie took of you and Jungkook after the ceremony. It’s in the restaurant that you ate at to celebrate the civil wedding. Jungkook was grinning at you with an arm around on the backrest of your chair, you were leaning towards him, smiling at the camera—and the absolute selling point of why this was the best picture ever taken was because of how cake icing was scattered on your faces, places on spots in an artistic manner like it was planted there on purpose for the picture and not because the both of you were being silly that instance.

You think it showcases your relationship with Jungkook marvelously. It’s playful, it’s sweet, and most of all, it demonstrates how you two are clearly great friends.

“This is so beautiful, Seowon,” you say.

You immediately send Winnie a heartfelt thank you message for the gift and continue to take a photo of the frame, sending it to Jungkook as well.

Once you hit send, you type out a message to accompany it.

You: look how cute we look 🥹

You’re certain it’ll take hours before he replies so you keep your phone again, going back to staring at the picture which is now placed on one of the shelves. It’s the sole picture frame you have with Jungkook. In fact, it’s the only picture that Jungkook has in his apartment, and you like to think that this might be the mark of the new beginning you’ll have with him. Even though your relationship wouldn’t be traditionally explored given his occupation and how he’s most likely going to be away a lot, you don’t mind.

If there’s one thing you really believe in, it’s that waiting for Jungkook—whether consciously or unconsciously—always brings out the best outcomes.

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